


Phoenix

by Lady_J (Hey_Its_Jo)



Series: Phoenix [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Magic, Mystery, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hey_Its_Jo/pseuds/Lady_J
Summary: Elaine learns far more than magic at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; after discovering that she's a witch, she escapes the people who've lied to her for eleven years.  The only clues she has are two mysterious letters; one which was left with her the night her mother was killed by the Dark Lord Voldemort, the second from a man who calls himself her father.Elaine hopes to discover her true identity at Hogwarts, only to learn that the truth is even murkier than the lies.After all, there's no such thing as magic.  Is there?(Based off Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets)
Series: Phoenix [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110230
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	1. No Such Thing As Magic

_She lay on her back, vaguely aware of her limbs. Above her, she perceived obscure shapes and colours. The soft melody of a woman's voice surrounded her; it was warm, sweet, it was a comfort._

_Then, the voice disappeared, leaving her to feel alone. The room was empty, but outside there was a commotion, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure replace the woman._

_The whole room seemed darker and colder as the mysterious cloaked figure drew nearer to where she lay — she tried to flee, but she couldn't move. She tried to call out, but she couldn't produce a sound any more than a babble. The dark figure loomed over her, looking down upon the helpless girl. There was a flash of green._

She woke with a start. Her eyes flew open, adjusting to the soft lamplight that replaced the bright blaze of green. As her groggy mind regained its bearings, she looked over to the woman who stood on the other side of the room, tying her apron.

"Oh, good, you're up. I was just about to wake you," she said, noticing the girl looking up at her. "Good morning, Elaine."

"Good morning, Maria," she responded, still half asleep.

Elaine pulled the covers off her, slipping from her stiff cot. Maria quietly left their bedroom to begin preparing breakfast while Elaine made her bed. She dressed herself in her uniform, tying her own apron in the dip in her back and lacing up the black shoes she'd polished the night before — only the best foot forward, the LaChances had always told her. Even for maids who had not yet reached eleven years.

She looked at her reflection in the one small mirror on the one small vanity and twisted her red hair into two braids that fell over her shoulders. With her long hair out of her way, she was ready. She looked out the window where the first five a.m. light of the morning was just visible in the deep blue sky before heading in the direction of the kitchen, where she knew Maria would greet her with a cup of tea.

<><<>><>

The day dawned quickly in the summer, and the hot July sun bore down incessantly on Elaine as she knelt in the soil. She methodically dug her hoe into the ground, unearthing stubborn weeds. She tossed them into a pile behind her.

She sat back on her ankles, and ran her hand over her forehead, aware that she was smudging the dirt across it. She felt the damp wisps of hair that escaped her kerchief curling from the sweat. Elaine sighed — Mrs. LaChance's prize-winning roses were difficult work, yet the most rewarding part of the garden.

Suddenly, Elaine startled as a large bird landed above her, on the front deck railing. She found herself staring at a Great Horned owl; it was large, brown and speckled, with two proud tufts on it's head. They stared at each other, and it held her gaze as if staring straight into her. But, something peculiar caught her eye — it held in its beak what appeared to be a letter.

It dropped it in the rose bush, and Elaine scurried forward on her knees, picking it up and turning it over in her hands. It was addressed to Miss Elaine LaChance. She looked back up to the owl, which seemed almost to smile at her. It flew away.

"Wait, I'm not a LaChance — I'm just the maid!" she shouted after it as it disappeared into the summer sky.

She looked back to the letter; it appeared to be handwritten in vibrant green ink and curly lettering. It had come from a Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Curious..." she thought out loud. It was probably a scam.

"You seem to be quite enjoying the sunshine."

Quickly, Elaine hid the letter behind her back as the shrill and disapproving voice of Mrs. LaChance interrupted her. Her head jerked up to see the woman standing in the window.

"If you're finished in the garden, then quit your tarrying and come inside. The ladies will be here any minute."

Her figure disappeared from the window. Elaine tucked the letter under her apron. She stood from the dirt, smoothing out the apron and adjusting her cap sleeves. She hurried inside out of the heat, to be greeted again by the intense woman.

"Goodness gracious, girl, get yourself cleaned up! We can't have you serving tea with mud on your face... what an utter disgrace... and put on your nice apron — only the best foot forward, even for scrawny little girls. Off you pop!"

Elaine gave an exasperated sigh as she trod to the back of the LaChance mansion, where the room she shared with Maria sat just past the kitchen. The lady of the house rattled on, vaguely hurling her nonsensical abuse after her little maid.

<><<>><>

Maria, accompanied by Elaine, hurried from the kitchen into the parlour at the front of the house; Elaine tried to hurry as quickly as she could, which was difficult while balancing a tray of china. As she drew nearer to the front of the mansion, she could hear the high chatter of Mrs. LaChance's guests. They were a part of one of Mrs. LaChance's many societies, although, the woman participated in so many activities that Elaine could hardly tell which circle it was this week.

They entered silently into the parlour, the dirt scrubbed from her forehead and under her nails, her hair freshly braided into twin braids and her company apron, the one trimmed with lace, tied around her waist. They placed their tea-trays onto the table, set with matching china, a centerpiece of roses that Elaine had picked just this morning. She tried to become as small as possible, as not to get in the way of the gossip.

"Oh, Joy, you're garden is looking as lovely as ever," one lady with a blue hat remarked. Elaine couldn't help but notice Mrs. LaChance's blush at this compliment.

"Oh, yes, my dear, I don't know how you get such fine roses in this ghastly English climate. I've never had a green thumb like you."

All the ladies gushed about the glory that was Mrs. LaChance's garden, and the corner of Elaine's mouth involuntarily twitched upward; she couldn't remember the last time the woman had set foot in her garden. She exchanged a glance with her senior maid.

" _Si ella cultivé tu jardín, tus flores serían meurtos_ ," she remarked. Elaine stifled her laugh, but not well enough.

"Is something funny, young lady?" the woman in the blue hat turned her attention to her, looking down her self-righteous nose.

"No, ma'am. Of course not." Elaine averted her gaze, pretending to be polite.

"I tell you, girl, you're lucky. If you were one of mine, I'd have you locked up in your room for that attitude. If you ask me, your mistress has been far too gracious to you, you ungrateful child."

"Believe me, Martha, I will be dealing with her later," Mrs. LaChance chimed in.

"I don't know why you keep her," the woman Martha continued. "If that bastard babe had turned up on my doorstep, I would have left her there. I don't want anything to do with the vermin — it's a shame we abolished the workhouses. Don't get me wrong, my dear, it is a commendable thing you did, taking her in."

"I was just doing my Christian duty," Mrs. LaChance replied, her voice laden with smugness. 

Elaine had to tense her jaw to steady the quiver in her lip — it was one thing when Mr. or Mrs. LaChance were grating her. She was used to that. But, for some reason, it was an entirely different thing coming from Blue-Hat-Martha. She noticed Maria casting her a sympathetic look, and with a slight gesture of her head, she dismissed her.

Elaine walked slowly. Every inch of her wanted to flee, yet she held her ground. She slowed her breathing, focusing on each step; she would leave with her dignity in tact. Even after she was out of their sight, she walked slowly back to the servants' quarters behind the kitchen with her hands folded modestly in front of her — only the best foot forward. Even for scrawny little bastard girls.

<><<>><>

Elaine sat on her bed, clad in her white cotton nightdress, her legs folded under her quilt. She sat by the gentle light of the lamp, cradling a book in her lap and scribbling in it with a pencil. Maria, across the small room, laid out her dress for the next day — the very same one she'd worn that day. Their wardrobes were as modest as their means.

"Lainey," she broke the silence.

"Yes?" She didn't take her eyes off the book.

"You should get some sleep."

"I just want to finish these exercises. I've almost got the times tables down." 

"'Lainey..." she persisted.

"I'm not tired."

Maria knelt beside her bed, taking the workbook from her hands. "Are you alright?" she asked once she'd finally gotten the young girl's attention; a tuft of her reddish-blonde hair had come loose from her braid, and Maria gently tucked it behind her ear.

"Yes," she spoke hesitantly.

"It was horrible what Lady LeDuke said about you."

"I'm fine, really," she replied, smiling weakly. "And it's not as if it isn't true."

"Lainey, don't say that..."

"Why not? She wasn't wrong. I was abandoned by my parents on a stranger's doorstep, without even a name. You're Maria Mendoza, the LaChances have full names, and I'm just Elaine. I'm nobody." Elaine pulled her arms about her stomach.

"'Lainey, that's not true," Maria tried to comfort her.

Elaine looked to her, her only friend, giving her a smile as Maria took her hands. However, Maria seemed less than pleased — her brow furrowed, and suddenly she pulled away. She turned away from Elaine, her own arms wrapped about her middle. She walked slowly back to her own bed.

"There was a letter..." she began after a heavy silent pause.

"My letter! I almost forgot!"

Elaine dove out of her bed and rifled through the dress she'd worn that day. Sure enough, the envelope with green ink was there. She retrieved it, holding it delicately as she returned to her bed. She sat on the edge, looking more closely at it than she had before.

"You got a letter?" Maria asked, her curiosity more than evident. She turned back to face her, walking over to the bed where Elaine sat, holding the still-sealed envelope to her.

"It's curious," Elaine continued. "I've never gotten a letter before, and then this. It must be a scam — they didn't even get my name right."

Maria stared at the envelope, her eyes wide and worry lines etching their way across her forehead; she looked like she'd seen a ghost. She turned away from Elaine as the little girl spoke. But, Elaine took no notice as she mused about her very first letter.

"You should open it," Maria said and turned to face her again. 

Elaine took the small letter back. She opened it and removed it's contents, reading aloud:

_Dear Miss. LaChance,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

As well as parchment, a small bronze key fell from the envelope. Elaine turned it over in her hand, scoffing.

"It's all so silly," Elaine said, breaking the loud silence that crowded them. "I mean, there's no such thing as magic."

"Maybe there is," Maria said. She sat down on her own bed across from Elaine, who gazed at her with her ice-blue eyes wide.

"You think I should go?" she asked, bewildered. Maria had always seemed so sensible.

"I don't know." Maria spoke quietly, avoiding looking Elaine in the eye. She knew something must be off. "I just think that perhaps you should consider it - _A la ocasión la pintan calva._ "

"Opportunity knocks only once," Elaine repeated with a smile. She looked again to the letter, her stomach twisting itself into a heavy knot.

Silence settled between them as they each slipped between the covers of their beds. Elaine pulled her cotton blanket up to her neck, staring up at the ceiling as Maria turned out the one small lamp. Darkness and stillness accompanied the silence. Yet, Elaine knew that sleep would take its time finding her, tonight; her mind turned over and over in her head, preventing her from finding her peace. Her gentle voice broke through the quiet.

"Goodnight, Maria."

" _Dulces sueños, mi querida."_

<><<>><>

The black and white quartz tiles were cold on Elaine's bare feet as she tread lightly into the kitchen. She winced and squinted her eyes as she flicked the on the light switch.

Slowly, she sat herself at the small table; the letter from the mysterious Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was not her first letter. That was a lie. Although, until today, she'd nearly forgotten about the first. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she spread a letter out in front of her. Running her hands over the faded parchment, she remembered the time she had first found it in the bottom of her nightstand drawer, as if it had always been tucked away there. She hadn't yet learned to read, at that time, and it had taken her a few years to work it out. And in all those years, she'd never had any idea how it'd gotten there. 

She had laid awake for hours, her mind abuzz, until she'd finally slipped silently from her bed and tiptoed to the kitchen, careful not to disturb Maria. She looked over the letter for the first time in many years.

_My darling daughter_ , it read.

_You needed someone to raise you properly, and to teach you everything you need to know — I'm sorry it couldn't be me. My work is far too important. I've had to go away for a while, but I promise you, my sweet girl, that I will return to take you from the horrid muggles. You will be restored to my side, to your proper place at my right hand. Then, I will show you things you could never imagine. I will teach you things you can only dream._

_Until then, my dear, people may tell you things about me. Not everyone quite understands my essential work — they don't appreciate the importance of my calling. They will tell you of our war, and they will speak of me with bitterness. They will try to tell you that I have commit atrocities against them, but this is not true. Sacrifices must be made for the sake of progress. Sacrifices like your mother. Regardless of what they will tell you, I did love her._

_For now, and until the time that I can return to you, I leave you with a gift, my child; a part of me remains with you. You will have power that others will envy you for, and your ability shall be great. You will truly be the brightest of your age, as any daughter of mine should be. But, until that day, do everything in the name of the Dark Lord Voldemort. I hope to see you strong, one day._

It was left unsigned. Yet, the identity of the sender couldn't be clearer. Elaine stared at the letter, reading each word over again and again; maybe he was her father, and maybe he wasn't. She hadn't even a clue as to who he was. She hadn't a clue as to who _she_ was. Every time she read those words, it still made no sense.

But, she did know one thing; there might be a way to find out.

<><<>><>


	2. The Pinstripe Jacket And The Pink Umbrella

Elaine pulled her cardigan over her shoulders by the half-light of the lamp. Out the window, the sky was just beginning to turn the dark blue of early morning. She glanced quickly in the small mirror, smoothing back the reddish-blonde wisps that escaped her twin braids before grabbing hold of a small rucksack.

The sound of the kettle boiling led Elaine down the corridor, into the kitchen where Maria was fixing a simple breakfast — a maid got her best work done when she was fueled for the day, as she always said. But that would not be Elaine. Not today. 

Maria turned to wish her a _'_ _buenos dias'_ as she entered the kitchen. She seemed to turn to stone as she turned around and saw her standing in the entryway with her bag and without her apron. There was a long silence as she took in the sight of her.

"You're going," she said at last, her mouth agape. Elaine nodded.

"Opportunity knocks only once. This might be my opportunity to... to find out who I am." She thought of the letter in her bag.

Another silence stretched between them. This time, so did a smile. 

<><<>><>

Maria fastened the buttons of Elaine's cardigan as they stood in the grand front doors of the LaChance residence. She seemed nearly as nervous as Elaine felt. Outside, the sky was now light, the morning sun's milky rays cutting over the top of the trees — Maria couldn't have seen her off without at least a cup of tea.

"If it's nothing, I can turn around and come back, no worse for wear," Elaine said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "And I'll never know if I don't at least try."

"Right you are." She straightened out the cardigan, placing her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Will you cover for me?"

"I'll tell them you're ill. You know where to go?"

"The... The Leaky Cauldron."

They exchanged one last smile, and an embrace. Then, Elaine clutched her rucksack nervously, bracing herself as she stepped through the open doors. A warm summer morning welcomed her. She heard Maria close the door behind her as she walked down the path out to the street. 

<><<>><>

Elaine was pushed and pulled about by the throngs of Londoners in the city streets, and she remembered just why she enjoyed living outside of town, yet also why she enjoyed visiting it. It was thrilling, and overwhelming, and an adventure.

Even for someone as small as her, she had trouble weaving in and out of the densely packed pedestrians. She was bumped and shoved and jostled by the people who seemed three times her size. Out of nowhere, the crowed produced a boulder of a man straight in her path, and she walked straight into him.

"Oi, watchit, miss."

"I'm sorry, sir. Say," she called after him, "you don't know where I could find The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Shouldn't you be in school?" He smacked her with his snide reply before turning his back on her; Elaine could almost have sworn she heard him mutter under his breath something about irksome children, accompanied by some words she couldn't repeat.

Elaine continued her trek, trying to peer above the heads of of the passers-by. London was a big city, and she didn't know how to go about finding an obscure dive — the city was full of them. She stopped a woman, tall and pretty, with an obviously overpriced purse.

"Excuse me, you couldn't point me in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron?"

"Is that one of the places all you kids are hanging out?" she asked with a smile. She shook her head of shiny chocolate waves "Sorry, dear."

Elaine watched her hair bounce as she walked away. She heaved a heavy sigh, slumping against a wall. The city whizzed past her, and she chastised herself silently — of course magic wasn't real. Of course this was all a joke. She looked up, past the tall bodies, past the tall buildings, to the bright blue sky; it was nearly noon. She figured it was near time to admit defeat and head for home. Time to head back to reality.

"Psst." 

A quiet sound pierced through the noise of the street. Elaine turned her head, only half sure she hadn't imagined it.

"Hey, little girl."

She looked over and nearly jumped out of her shoes; the tall lanky figure of a man had appeared, clad in a tweed overcoat of yellow and blue pinstripes. She guessed he'd come from the alleyway. Not much good ever comes from alleyways. She pretended not to notice him as he slowly strode up to where she stood, leaning on the space of the rough brick wall next to her. Yet, she couldn't help but notice his umbrella, in a conspicuous shade of pink.

"I hear you're lookin' for The Leaky Cauldron."

At this, she had no choice but to look up at him, her mouth agape.

"You know about The Leaky Cauldron? It's actually real? I mean, you can take me there?"

"Sure I can."

He winked and flashed her a sly smile before disappearing back into the alley. Elaine swallowed the lump in her throat and followed him; she knew this was a terrible idea, and not much of a plan. But for the moment, she didn't have a better one.

He led her out the other side of the alley and hung a right down the adjacent street. She followed at a distance as he jaywalked to the other side of the road. Then, she found herself in a narrow side street, with indistinguishable buildings, crooked doors and faded signs. They came out to another road, a little wider than the previous one, that ran on a hill.

"Down that hill for another three blocks. What you're looking for is on the left."

"Thank you," she called to his pinstripe back as he slinked away up the hill.

Elaine turned and looked down the hill. This road was much quieter than the others, and it almost made her forget that she was in sprawling London; there were only a few people milling about, and all of them seemed to be just as odd as the man who'd led her here. They looked like a bad mash-up of the nineteenth century and the nineteen sixties. She stole herself and walked down.

At the bottom of the hill, she stopped; there was a dingy building across the lane, and a faded sign which advertised _The Leaky Cauldron._ She stood in place, gripping her bag as her breath caught in her throat. This was it, the moment she learned whether or not magic was real; Elaine knew that the answer could change everything.

She almost couldn't bring herself to cross the street, but finally, she forged her way against the current of her thoughts. She clung to her rucksack which white knuckles, as if holding onto it would keep her on the ground. With each step, her chest felt tighter. _This is crazy,_ she thought. _Magic isn't real... it can't be... this must all be some terrible joke..._

And yet, she arrived at the door and pulled it open. Elaine stepped inside, into a pub that looked just as dingy on the inside as it had from the curb. She made her way forward as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting it was quiet, it was odd. It's few inhabitants seemed a few inches short of the hill. 

"E–excuse me..." her voice stuttered as she stepped up to the bar. The man behind it didn't seem to hear her, as he continued to flip through a copy of _The Daily Prophet._ She didn't think she'd ever heard of that newspaper. It was funny, but she could have sworn she saw one of its photographs move.

"Um, hello."

The top of the newspaper folded down to reveal a bald, hunched man, who looked down at her with beady eyes. Suddenly, the bar seemed to get taller. Elaine cleared her throat.

"S–sorry to bother you, sir. I'm, I'm looking for Diagon Alley..." she trailed off, betting that she sounded mad as a hatter.

"You must be one of 'em first-years," he replied with a grin. Elaine was taken aback — he didn't seem to think she was as crazy as she felt.

"Follow me."

He limped out from behind the bar, holding open a back door for her. She followed him through skeptically into a small back area with three brick walls enclosing them in; either magic was real, or she was about to be murdered.

With a sly grin, he pulled out a wooden stick. Then, he tapped a pattern onto the brick wall. Suddenly, with a loud grinding noise, the bricks began to shift of their own accord. Elaine gasped and jumped back as they turned and tucked into themselves, forming an archway. On the other side, she saw a bustling street.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."

"T–thank you," Elaine stuttered in awe.

She stepped through the arch and into the colourful alley. It was alive with people, children running up and down the cobblestone, laughter everywhere.

"Dragon liver, seventeen sickles an ounce!" one plump lady called.

"Look," she heard a young boy gasp as his he walked with his mother past a shop window, "the new Nimbus Two thousand and One!"

Elaine looked through the window and saw the sleek broomstick resting on its perch — fancier than any she'd handled, and she'd handled quite a few. She saw the broomstick, and the dragon liver, and all the people milling about in their robes. She watched it all, all the butterflies flying away.

"It's real," she muttered. "It's all real. Magic is real!"

She flounced down the street, and for the first time in her life she hadn't a care in the world. She took everything in, only wishing she had more eyes so she didn't miss a thing. She grinned from ear to ear as she spun about, admiring the colours and the sounds and the smells.

"Excuse me," she stopped an elderly witch who passed her by. "Do you know where I could find a wand?"

"It'll be Ollivander's you're looking for. Just up the alley. Worth your Galleons."

"Galleons?"

"You must be new here. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to a sickle; it's wizarding money," she said with a kind smile. Elaine smiled shyly with a nod.

"Then Gringotts should be your first stop. Just down there."

The woman pointed down the street at a tall marble building that was balanced precariously, leaning in several directions. Elaine thanked her before heading off. She reached the cracked stone steps, the butterflies suddenly returning — she didn't have any wizarding money, nor did she have any real money.

She stepped inside, the large door banging closed behind her. It sealed out the vibrant alley, and inside was nearly silent. She stepped forward slowly, carefully, taking in the cobwebs and the dusty chandeliers — whatever the creatures were that sat behind the marble counters, they weren't diligent with tidying up.

"Ahem."

A soft cough broke through her trance as she looked about, unsure of herself. She looked over to one of the creatures who had put down his coins to stare at her in disdain. She swallowed hard.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked tensely.

"Um, I think so..." she skittered up to him. "I need some wizarding money."

"Key, please."

"Key?" she asked, incredulous.

"The key to your vault."

"My..." she trailed off as her thoughts collected — she remembered the small bronze key that had been enclosed in her Hogwarts letter.

"Do you mean this?" She rummaged through her rucksack, producing the ornate key and presenting it to the teller. He gave her a sly grin.

"This will do nicely."

He instructed her to follow him. The creature led her to a door at the back of the marble hall. But, instead of more marble behind this door, there was a narrow stone passageway. A cart sat upon what resembled railway tracks, and her guide motioned for her to get in. Then he did the same.

Elaine let out a scream as the cart hurtled down the steep slope. She held onto the cart for dear life as they hurtled down, down, down. The tracks twisted all about, and she lost track of the hard lefts and sharp rights as they descended. They must be going deep, she could tell by the cold damp air. She was glad she wore her cardigan.

Finally, the cart came to a grinding, squealing halt. The creature led the way from the cart, holding the door for Elaine. She stepped out with wobbling legs.

"I don't mean to be rude," she started, "but what exactly are you?"

"What am I? I am a goblin."

"A goblin? That's... well, that's incredible." She tried not to gawk.

He gave a huff that sounded slightly annoyed. Then, he stepped up in front of a large door, taking out Elaine's key. He inserted it, and a loud bang followed as the gears on the door began to turn. They opened with a puff of green smoke.

Once it cleared, she stepped into her vault; the torchlight set it aglow, illuminating the mounds of silver and gold. Not only where there coins, but jewels as well. Elaine suddenly felt weak in the knees.

"This can't be right..."

"They keys never lie."

"But, I don't have money."

"The keys never lie," he repeated, pointedly, with a devious smile. 

Elaine could barely breathe. All her life, she'd had nothing. Now, she had everything; she could leave the LaChances and never come back. She could have more than one pair of shoes. She could have anything she'd ever wanted.

And she didn't want to waste any time about it. She tossed several handfuls of coins into her bag before hurrying back into the cart. The trip back up was just as fast and just as jostling.

Elaine left Gringotts with a wide smile on her face and a bounce in her step. She had a brand new perspective on Diagon Alley, to the tune of the coins jingling in her sack. She was completely free, here. And, the first thing she was going to do was buy a wand.

<><<>><>


	3. Hawthorn And Stardust, Twelve-and-a-Half Inches, Unbending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short, but I hope it's sweet! 
> 
> At any rate, I make up for it in the next couple of chapters.

Elaine made her way down the street in the direction the old witch had pointed. Sure enough, she found it next door to Scribbulus; _Ollivander's, makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.._ She stepped inside, out of the busyness of Diagon Alley and into the dim and dusty wand shop. It was small, and packed with narrow boxes on cramped shelves. The only sound that disturbed the place was the jingle of the bell.

"Hello?" she called through the silence. Elaine jumped as a man appeared on a ladder, sliding into sight. He was tall, or had been before he'd aged.

"Hello, there," he said. His tone serious, yet his eyes were mischievous. He climbed down off his ladder. "And what is your name, dear girl?"

"Elaine."

"Just Elaine?" he asked, raising a playful bushy eyebrow. She nodded. "Well, Just Elaine, let's get started."

He returned to the back, while a measuring tape began to take all sorts of measurements, twisting all about her — she wasn't sure how the distance between her ears made a difference in waving a wand.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Mr. Ollivander called, hidden behind the shelves, "but you seem to be new around here."

"Y–yes," she stammered. "It's thrilling, and a little overwhelming. Just this morning, I wasn't even sure I believed in magic."

"Is that so?" he responded, returning to her and offering her one of the long boxes. Elaine looked at it, her stomach twisting into a knot. "Go on, give it a try. Acacia, unicorn hair, twelve inches, a fair pliancy."

She delicately removed the slender, smooth wood. She moved it in a slow swirling motion through the air. Suddenly, a violent wind whipped up in the room, blowing about papers and boxes.

"Moving on!" Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand from her. He disappeared again for a moment, returning with another box.

"I take it you come from a muggle family, then? Non-magic folk," he asked, handing her another wand of maple, dragon heartstring, nine-and-three-quarter inches and springy. She waved it and was immediately knocked on her backside.

"Not quite," Mr. Ollivander said, reaching down and taking this one from her, too. Again, he disappeared among the wands.

"Yes," she answered, "I live with muggles. Though, I don't know about my family. Maybe they were like me, I don't know. I was raised by strangers, as a maid."

"A maid, you say? A very noble profession. Very noble indeed. You must be a very hardworking young lady. A perseverer. "

"I do my best, which isn't very much, I guess."

"Nonsense! With the right wand, you will do great things. Here you go, the third time's a charm — willow, unicorn hair, eleven inches, rigid."

Taking a deep, hopeful breath, she gave a quick wave of the wand over her head. All the lights flickered out. With a wave of his own wand, Mr. Ollivander turned them back on.

"I suppose not."

This time when he disappeared to the back, he was silent. He asked her no more questions. And, he seemed to take longer, this time. The heavy quiet and stillness of Mr. Ollivander's shop began to make her uneasy, only disturbed by the gentle sounds of him rummaging through stacks of wands.

"I'm sorry, I seem to be quite difficult to match," she broke the silence, to try and ease the tension she felt.

"I find," Mr. Ollivander began from the back, "that the witches and wizards who are the most difficult to match are usually the ones with the most potential."

When he finished speaking, Elaine heard the sounds of shuffling boxes cease, as well, and an even heavier silence descended on them. It seemed to stretch on for hours.

"The most potential... perhaps..." he mumbled from the back, so quietly that Elaine wasn't sure he'd spoken at all. He came back into view, slowly, his expression an unsettling mix of grave and quizzical.

"Hawthorn," he began carefully, cradling the wand. He seemed hesitant to give it to her. "It makes for a strange wand, full of contradictions. Just as complex, intriguing and contradictory in nature as their suitors. Best for healing magic, but also for curses. Typically, I would only consider placing hawthorn in the care of experienced witches and wizards, who have proven their talent. But you, my dear, you seem to me to be not easily deterred. Are you up for the challenge?" he asked, his voice skeptical and his brow raised.

"Yes," she replied plainly.

Slowly, he handed it over to her, and even more slowly, she took it. She didn't have to wave this one; almost immediately upon contact the wood felt warm on her fingertips, and a warm breeze swept about her. Mr. Ollivander seemed please.

"Just as I thought. Quite curious, quite curious," he muttered, looking her up and down with a smirk.

"What's curious?"

"It's not everyday a wandmaker matches such a rare wand. You see, wands are typically made of three cores — unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, and the rarest, pheonix feather. However, there is a fourth core, even more rare than the feather of a phoenix, and which resides in this wand."

"What is it?"

"Stardust. There is only one other such wand in the world, and only four have been made in all history. You see, stars are the most magical beings in existence. Only one or two will fall to Earth every century, but hardly any survive the fall. They get burnt up, and by the time the wandmaker finds it, there's nothing left."

"They're the most magical beings in existence?" she asked, incredulously staring at her wand. She looked at it more closely, now; it was twelve-and-a-half inches, and unbending.

"They're creatures of nearly pure magic. And as magic is neutral, so is this wand; some wands are adept at charms, others at dueling, but the wand of a stardust core has the capacity for all forms of magic, to any degree of power its owner can summon. You are simply it's humble guide."

"I'll take it," she said with a smile.

"Oh, no, my dear," Mr. Ollivander replied with a wider smile, "the wand will take you."

<><<>><>


	4. Eleven-Year-Old Lies

Elaine had wished that she'd brought a bigger rucksack. In it, she'd managed to squeeze her wand in around the books, most of which were by one Gilderoy Lockhart. She'd carried her Hogwarts robes tucked under her arm in their brown paper packaging, and she'd carried her glass phials, her telescope set, and her brass scales in her standard size-two pewter cauldron. It had been a tedious balancing game, but she had managed to lug it all back to the LaChance residence. 

"Lainey, is that you?" Maria called from the kitchen.

Soon after, her voice was followed by the woman herself, who appeared in the foyer with a smile as she wiped her hands on her apron. As soon as she saw Elaine her smile faded, her jaw dropped, and her eyes stretched wide.

"Magic is real."

Elaine smiled ear to ear, hardly able to compose herself. There was so much within her that urged to gush out. But for now, Elaine contained herself with a giddy energy, unable to ease the shaking as Maria helped her hide her new things.

<><<>><>

"... and the book started reading itself to me!" 

Elaine and Maria sat cross-legged on their beds, laughing as Elaine told her all about her first adventure in the wizarding world; she recounted the funny witches and wizards, the goblins of Gringotts and her piles of gold, the different makes of wands, all the odd little shops full of little odds and ends.

"Do they really wear the pointy hats?"

"Yeah."

"You seem happy." Maria smiled.

"I think I am. And, I think this might be the beginning of actually finding out who I am." Elaine sighed with a smile of her own, flopping down onto her bed. A peaceful silence settled in the room.

"What if..." Maria began quietly, "well... perhaps the LaChances know more than they're letting on."

Elaine turned her head to her to see her staring into her lap, where she was wringing her hands. Her mind went back to the mysterious demeanour she'd reverted to the previous night, as well. Could it be that, after all this time, there was something she hadn't told her?

"Do you... know something?" Elaine propped herself up on her elbow.

"No."

Another long silence settled, and this one wasn't quite as peaceful. Elaine gazed evenly at Maria, studying her, and Maria seemed to focus her energy into avoiding her gaze. Finally, she looked up at her again.

"You're really going to do this?" Maria asked from her bed. "You're really going to this... Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"I sent them my owl in Diagon Alley."

She and Maria looked to each other, on opposite sides of the room, and a smile slowly spread across their faces. Pulling her blanket snugly about her, Elaine knew she would hardly sleep a wink, tonight. How could one sleep when there was magic in the air?

<><<>><>

The second half of summer passed in a lazy August heat. After she'd returned from Diagon Alley, Elaine had decided to put her mind from all things magical until September. For the remaining weeks, she kept her head down and focused on her work; despite her efforts, Elaine couldn't help but long for the cool autumn breeze.

Elaine stood, her blue eyes staring back at her in the mirror. She could see the golden lamplight reflecting in them. They flicked nervously to the window, where the sun was just beginning to dawn on this, the day, the first of September. For weeks, she'd anticipated this moment, and yet now that it was here, she found herself a little short of breath.

Finally, Elaine stepped from her room, dragging her small trunk behind her. She walked into the kitchen, where Maria turned to face her — she seemed just as anxious as Elaine felt.

"Look at you..."

Maria looked her over with a sad smile, like a mother seeing her child off to school; then again, Maria was the closest thing to a mother Elaine had ever had. They embraced, before Maria sat her down at the table, insisting on having one last breakfast. And, Elaine wasn't one to object.

<><<>><>

The two of them stood in silence as Maria washed their breakfast dishes and Elaine dried. She stood at the sink next to her fellow maid, yet her mind was a world away as it mulled through the coming year; she realized that she had no idea what she was in for. Yet, that didn't curb her excitement. She looked at the clock, at just past eight in the morning.

"I should be going."

Maria stepped away from the sink, drying her hands on her apron before insisting on lugging Elaine's trunk. Elaine didn't feel too bad, it wasn't as if it weighed much. They walked together slowly across the foyer.

"You have everything?" Maria asked as they approached the door. They spoke in hushed tones; the last thing Elaine wanted was to disturb the family of the house.

"Yes."

"Are you sure? You're bag is so light."

"It's not like I have very many things to put in it." Elaine took the trunk from her. Maria fussed over her grey cardigan, next.

"Are you sure you don't want an extra jacket? The mornings are beginning to cool..."

"I'll be fine." Elaine smiled, and Maria seemed to be reassured. She pulled her into an embrace.

"I'll miss you. It won't be the same around here without you," Maria said to Elaine's back as she held her.

"Things will be quite the same around here, since she won't be going anywhere."

A shrill voice broke the quiet of the morning. Elaine turned in a flash to see Mr. LaChance, sitting in the salon, his newspaper folded down. Beside him sat Mrs. LaChance. Elaine's heart skipped a beat.

"Mr. LaChance... I... I was only going —" Elaine stuttered, but her fumbling was cut short.

"Save your lies, child," Mrs. LaChance cut in, "we know where it is you're sneaking off to. What, did you think we wouldn't notice that you were gone?"

"I don't know what —"

"You don't know?" Mrs. LaChance stood, now. "You don't know about that school? You don't know about the letter they sent you?"

"You know about Hogwarts?" Elaine was dumbfounded.

"Do not speak of it!" Mr. LaChance shouted, standing now as well. "I will not have such unholy talk in my house!"

"Did you tell them?" Elaine turned to Maria. She just shook her head.

"She didn't have to." Mrs. LaChance regained Elaine's attention. She looked down her nose at the little maid. "You're not the first. We've had to deal with this all before, with your mother."

"My mother? You knew my mother?" Elaine's heart stopped.

"Yes, we knew your mother. She was our daughter, the disgrace of our family, with her evil _talents_ , and her _abnormalities_. She was unnatural, and we always knew you'd be just like her."

"That means... you're my grandparents." 

If Elaine's heart had felt as if it would stop a moment ago, it now raced as she came to terms with what she'd just learned. Everything came tumbling over her like a waterfall. 

"All these years," she began, hardly able to breathe, "and you never told me? You used me as your maid, your own granddaughter."

"Hardly," Mr. LaChance replied. The two of them sneered at her. 

"You knew who I was all this time, and you never so much as told me my name!" For what seemed like the first time in her life, Elaine was properly angry.

"Riddle, that was the name of the boy your mother ran off with. Elaine Riddle, or so it said on the letter that was left with you on our doorstep after she up and died. And _he_ was nowhere to be found, imagine." 

Mrs. LaChance spoke of this man — her father — with disdain. She spoke his name, _her_ name, with venom.

"There was a letter?" 

Elaine could barely believe the number of lies that were surfacing in a single moment.

"Yes," answered Maria. Elaine turned to see her approach, a folded paper in her outstretched hand.

"How come you never gave this to me?" she asked, fighting her feelings of betrayal.

"I was instructed to burn it... it was all I could do to hide it, and to keep it for you. I'm so sorry, Lainey."

Elaine took the letter, looking between the three of them in bewilderment. She looked to Mr. and Mrs. LaChance, who stood with square shoulders, high chins, and eyes narrowed into skeptical slits; these people had just become her grandparents. She looked to Maria, who's eyes were wide and pleading. Elaine's chest felt tight as the tension in the room threatened to crush her.

"Lainey, please forgive me." Maria broke the tedious silence. Elaine turned to her, the desperate expression on the woman's face softening the intense feelings within her. "You must believe me, I wanted to tell you."

All Elaine could do was nod. She hoped that Maria would understand. Without anything further, she grasped her trunk again and turned toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going, girl?" Mr. LaChance's hostility was burning hot.

Elaine marched to the door. She opened it to a bright morning. "To Hogwarts." 

"We forbid it!" Mrs. LaChance called after her, her shrill voice a near shriek. Elaine spun around on her heel so fast that her braids whipped her neck.

"You lost that right when you lied to me."

She turned again and walked out the door. She heard the sound of it bang shut behind her, like a clap of thunder, and a cleansing jolt of lighting. Her heart was racing, and her chest was heaving as she walked away, and toward. This was finally it. This was the beginning.

<><<>><>


	5. The Beginning

Elaine had never ridden a train, before. In fact, she'd only ever heard about the grand building that was Kings Cross station. Now as she lugged her trunk up the steps, she realized that it was exactly as it had been described, vast and ornate. But, what really struck Elaine was its velocity. Everything moved with the speed of sound; the trains, the teeming crowds, all were like frothing white rapids. She was used to the busy city streets, but Kings Cross existed in a universe of its own.

She forged her way ahead. It wouldn't be difficult for someone of her size, if her trunk didn't get in the way. The crowd kicked it about, jostling her all the way to platform nine.

Elaine took refuge behind a brick pillar. She pulled out her train ticket, looking between it and the platform numbers — the pillar she hid behind said nine, and the next one over, twenty feet away, said ten. She looked at her ticket again with a rising sense of panic as she read _platform nine and three quarters_. From where she stood, all she could see three quarters past platform nine was an ash tray. 

Amidst her confusion, she noticed another young girl appear. She looked only a few years older than Elaine, clad in bright clothes, blonde hair in a wispy pony-tail. A man accompanied her, quite obviously her father, maneuvering a trolley. Elaine watched as he passed it off to his daughter with a peck on her cheek. Then, the girl walked off toward the next platform and disappeared. Vanished completely. Elaine couldn't stifle her gasp.

Another family walked up, seven in total; there was a middle-aged woman, five boys, and one young girl. All of them had red hair, except for one boy — he had messy black hair, and a pair of bright green eyes behind his glasses. Elaine couldn't miss them, even from a platform away.

"Oldest first," Elaine heard the woman say. She watched the oldest boy, tall, thin, with curly red hair, disappear behind the brick column, as the girl had done. The next two to disappear were the red-headed twins.

"Ginny, you and I will go through together," the woman said to the young girl.

Elaine swallowed her butterflies and interrupted. "Excuse me, hello... um, I was just wondering... "

They all turned to look down at her. The woman gave a her a knowing smile.

"How to get onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters?" she finished for her. "Don't you worry, dear, it's really quite simple. You just walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Come, we'll do it together."

The black-haired boy chimed in. "Best do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous,"

He gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back.

The woman took each girl on an arm. Elaine tried to quiet the butterflies in her stomach as the three of them walked straight at the barrier. She squeezed her eyes shut.

There was a small rush of air, it seemed. Elaine opened her eyes. In front of her was a bright red steam engine that read _Hogwarts Express_. All around her, children ran about saying hellos and goodbyes. _And all of them are like me_ , she thought with a wide smile.

"Come along... quickly, now... the train leaves with or without you at exactly eleven o'clock." The woman urged them along. "I'm Molly Weasley, by the way, and this is my youngest, Ginny. It's her first year at Hogwarts, too."

"I'm Elaine. It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Please, call me Molly."

Elaine extended to her a timid hand. Mrs. Weasley accepted it with a warm smile, chittering about _'such a dear polite little thing.'_

Elaine stepped onto the train as Ginny and her mother said their goodbyes. It was already ten to eleven, and most of the compartments were full. They played all sorts of magical games, and played with strange toys that whistled and sparked. She walked slowly up and down the corridor, looking for a place to sit.

"Hello," a high voice spoke behind her. Elaine turned around to see a girl with bushy brown hair and teeth that were just a tad too big for her mouth. She was already wearing her Hogwarts robes.

"I'm Hermione. Hermione Granger. Do you need a place to sit?"

Elaine nodded. Hermione stepped forward, taking her trunk from her and ushering her into a compartment. Hermione began to introduce her to the three others seated there; they were none other than the Weasleys.

"Elaine!" 

Ginny's eyes lit up on recognition of her newest friend.

"Do you two know each other?" asked Hermione.

"She helped me onto the platform." 

"Good to meet you, Elaine. I'm Fred," one twin introduced, "and that ugly bloke is George."

Elaine tried not to laugh, and Fred placed her trunk in the overhead compartment. Elaine sat down between him and the wall.

"Are you excited for your first year at Hogwarts?" Fred asked her.

"It was all really surprising. But yes."

"You must be muggle-born, then, like me," Hermione said, showing her two large front teeth in a smile.

"No, my parents had magic, I think, but they died when I was little. I was raised by... my grandparents." 

It was difficult for her to say it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione responded.

"You'd get along well with Harry," said George. "His parents died when he was little, too. Killed by You-Know-Who. You two could start a club."

"Who?" Elaine asked. The others looked at her as if she'd grown another head.

_"You-Know-_ Who," answered Fred.

"I don't know who..."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" George continued. Elaine shook her head. "The Dark Lord?"

Elaine's mind rushed back to her old letter. 

"Oh, do you mean Voldemort?"

She very nearly jumped out of her seat as the others leaned in and shushed her.

"We don't say his name," Ginny told her.

"Why not?"

"Because of what he did."

"What did he do?"

"Blimey," said Fred, "you know his name, but not the things he did?" 

Elaine just shrugged, and their compartment settled into quiet.

"Hey," Hermione broke the silence, "where are Harry and Ron?"

"They're probably somewhere on the train. Don't worry about them."

"Who are Harry and Ron?" Elaine asked.

"Ron's our younger brother," George responded, "and Harry's Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?"

"You know about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but you don't know Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived?" 

Elaine shook her head as George spoke.

"Harry was the other boy who was with us," Ginny told her. An image of the dark-haired boy with green eyes came to Elaine's mine.

"I'm surprised Ginny hasn't talked your ear off about Harry Potter." Fred nudged Elaine. "She won't shut up about him."

Ginny mumbled for him to shut up, blushing as red as her hair. Just then, a loud whistle sounded, and the train gave a lurch forward. Fred and George offered to teach Elaine a game called Exploding Snap. Hermione excused herself to search for their two missing friends.

<><<>><>

"All changed?"

"Yes," called Ginny, and the Weasley twins appeared in the doorway, "Elaine was just tying my tie for me." 

After being raised by upper-crust high-society socialites, Elaine knew how to tie a tie five different ways; eight, if one included bow ties.

"We're almost to Hogwarts," George informed them. Elaine felt a rush of excitement that nearly took her breath away.

"Are you nervous for the sorting, Ginny?" Fred asked. "Every Weasley that's ever gone to Hogwarts has been in Gryffindor."

"A little," Ginny responded.

"What's Gryffindor?" asked Elaine.

"One of the four Hogwarts houses. There's Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the smart, Hufflepuff for the kind and loyal, and Slytherin."

Fred sneered. "You'd better hope you don't get Slytherin."

"Why not?"

"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin, and loads of his supporters."

Elaine's stomach twisted itself into a knot. Then, the train gave a lurch as it began to slow down. She and Ginny leapt to the window. It was dark out, now, and they couldn't see much more than a few glowing lamps. Fred and George spoke together behind them.

"Welcome to Hogsmeade, ladies."

"Hogwarts is just a short carriage ride up the hill," George continued, "but first years take the boats. I guess that means we'll be seeing you later. Happy sorting."

"Good luck!" Hermione wished them as she followed the twins out of the compartment.

Elaine and Ginny weren't far behind. They left their luggage aboard as they stepped off the train. The night was clear. The air was clean. The older students greeted one another after a long summer and pushed past each other to get to the carriages. All the first years congregated together in front of a beast of a man; he was at least seven feet tall, and every inch of him was covered in hair.

"Firs' years, follow me! All firs' years this way!"

"I think that's Hagrid, the gamekeeper," Ginny whispered to her.

The giant herded the crowd of eleven-year-olds, who gawked at him as he lead them down a steep dirt path. Among the smell of fresh green leaves, Elaine could smell lake water. When they drew farther down the hill, she could hear it lapping at the shore. Soon, the trees parted to reveal an inky black lake. And then, she saw it.

As she moved past the trees, looming on the other side of the expanse of dark water was a giant castle perched atop a hill. Windows glowed against the black night. Elaine wanted to gasp, but she was too awe-struck to let out a sound.

"No more'n four to a boat, and no rockin' about, ye hear?"

They all fumbled about themselves as they climbed into the boats. Elaine sat next to Ginny. One boy, blond and scrawny, fell into the water as he tried to climb in with them. 

"Are you alright?" Elaine asked as he finally fell in, sopping wet. She tucked her legs beneath her to avoid his drips.

"I'm great! My name's Colin, Colin Creevey."

"Nice to meet you, Colin Creevey. I'm Elaine —"

Elaine held out her hand to him. But before she could even finish introducing herself, she was cut off by the click and bright flash of his camera. She nearly jumped straight out of the boat.

"I like your braids," he said, over-enthusiastic. Elaine gawked, her mind pulling blanks as she tried to find a response. However, Hagrid cut her off before she could begin, much to her relief.

"Is everyone comfortable? Alright, FORWARD!"

No sooner had he'd uttered the command than the small wooden boats gave a uniform lurch forward off the shore. They were set adrift toward their first year at Hogwarts. 

Elaine couldn't stop herself from staring up at the castle. It grew bigger with every inch her boat drew nearer across the lake; it sent ripples through the inky black water, and the stars danced across the surface as the perfect mirror was broken. From the looks of it, none of the first years could tear their eyes away from the glowing castle, nor could they close their mouths.

The boats came to a halt, crunching on a gravely harbor. Elaine and Ginny helped each other out of their boat. They landed on their feet alright, but Colin Creevey landed face-first on the pebbles as he clambered out after them. He sprang straight back up, snapping pictures of every stone along every step he took. Elaine thought it was endearing, in a creepy way.

They followed Hagrid's lamp up a passage through the rocks. He led them out to a grand wooden door. They all crowded around him as he raised a massive fist and banged on the door. It swung open.

All the first years craned their necks to get a glimpse of the inside of the ornate Gothic castle; a warm light and cheerful clamour flooded them from the other side. The doors opened to reveal a tall, severe-looking woman in emerald green robes and a tall pointed hat. Hagrid swept one of his frying-pan-sized hands over the crowd.

"Here are your firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. All of you will follow me to the Great Hall."

They walked past Hagrid hurriedly — Professor McGonagall's pace was much quicker than Hagrid's lumbering stroll. She brought them past high stone walls, flaming torches, and marble staircases. Elaine whipped her head about to try to take it all in, her braids dancing around her shoulders. Finally they came to stand in front of another set of grand oak doors. The chorus of hundreds of voices was louder than ever.

"Welcome, students," Professor McGonagall began. "Here at Hogwarts, we begin every year with a feast, of which you will partake in momentarily. But first, you will be sorted into one of the four houses; they are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. While here at Hogwarts, your house will be your home. You will eat, sleep, study, and socialize with your housemates. And, you will all work together to amass points — triumphs will be awarded, and tomfoolery will cost you them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup."

She turned, and there was an excited chatter among the first years as they caught a glimpse of the Great Hall. Before she slipped through them, she turned back to the new students.

"I'll return in a moment to fetch you for the sorting ceremony. I trust you to behave yourselves for the time being." She closed the doors with a loud bang, and a chatter broke out amidst the eager new students.

"I hope I get Gryffindor. All my family was in Gryffindor," Ginny said. She turned to her, and Elaine could see a glint of nervousness in her brown doe-eyes. "What do you think you'll get?"

Elaine just shrugged. For the first time since she laid eyes on Hogwarts, she felt the butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter. How was she to know which house she belonged in? What if they made a mistake while sorting her? What if she hated her house? What if her house hated her?

"You will all form a line and follow me," the shrill voice of Professor McGonagall preceded her as she opened the door. All the students moved at once, hurrying to get their first glimpse of the Great Hall. Ginny slipped her arm around Elaine's, and the two of them went forward together.

The Great Hall was just that; great. The high walls disappeared into the starry night sky, and hundreds of candles floated beneath it. Everyone was seated at four long tables, and at the far end of the room, there was a fifth table for the professors.

The first years were corralled at the front of the hall; there was a stool, on top of which sat a raggedy old hat. It was patched and dirty, it's point and brim slumping over. There was one tear that wasn't patched, and it opened as the hat began to sing.

_Bright new minds, ready and keen_

_to explore new realms yet unseen -_

_eager to charm, bewitch and outsmart_

_and harness the power that sets them apart_

_and readier yet to be at the start_

_of the journey to learning one's own heart;_

_For each of us is one-of-a-kind,_

_and there is no greater treasure than knowing your mind._

_You may find it in Slytherin,_

_where ambition and cunning is among your kin._

_Or in Hufflepuff you may know your true form_

_if you are true and just, and refuse to conform._

_Perhaps in Ravenclaw, for the wise and the smart,_

_you may find the truth inside your heart._

_Yet in Gryffindor, if you value bravery,_

_you may find who you are meant to be._

_Put me on, I'll lead you right -_

_you start on your own path tonight;_

_if you can stand the weight of what's true,_

_you will learn things you never knew._

Elaine swallowed a lump in her throat. Professor McGonagall began the ceremony by calling forth Ablesworth, Anna, who was sorted into Ravenclaw. After a few names, one emerged that Elaine recognized; Creevey, Colin. The hat sorted him into Gryffindor. They proceeded like this for many names, until at last they reached the Ls.

"LaChance, Elaine."

She hadn't been expecting to be called so soon. For whatever reason, her name was down as LaChance. _Maybe that's a good thing_ , she thought. Slowly, she walked up to the stool, reminding herself to breathe all the way.

" _Well, well..._ " 

Elaine gasped as the hat's gravelly voice echoed in her head. 

_"Unyieldingly loyal, and unfailingly kind — all traits of good Hufflepuff herself. Yet, you're a smart one, aren't you? Yes, there's intelligence here, and wisdom beyond your years. You would do nicely in Ravenclaw. But I must say, there's something about you that's just... so... Slytherin."_

Her chest tightened. Voldemort had been in Slytherin. She wasn't sure if she should take the hat's comment as a compliment. 

It seemed like ages as the sorting hat hummed and hawed; it thought her to be kind and loyal, which she knew to be true. It thought her to be smart, which she doubted. But, it thought her to be cunning. She didn't believe it. Elaine's guess had to be Hufflepuff. 

" _Better be..._ " the hat said, finally, drawing out its conclusion. Elaine gripped the edges of the stool in anticipation.

_"Gryffindor!"_

Elaine stood, walking to the Gryffindor table, completely dumbfounded — Gryffindor had been the only house it _hadn't_ considered. She sat across from Hermione. Colin had tried to catch her attention, but she ignored him, almost too stunned to notice. She took her seat as McNeil, James, was made a Slytherin.

"Congratulations!" the Weasley twins spoke in unison, a few seats down.

Elaine just couldn't comprehend how it had happened.

Near the end of the ceremony, Ginny was also sorted into Gryffindor. Elaine waved her over, glad of the familiar company. After that, the ceremony came to a close. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and carried the sorting hat away.

"Looks like we're roommates," Ginny remarked.

Then, the man seated in the tallest chair at the middle of the professor's table stood. He had a long white beard and thick robes. He tapped his spoon on the edge of his water glass, and the room fell silent.

Hermione whispered, "That's Professor Dumbledore. He's the Headmaster at Hogwarts."

"Good evening! To all our new students, welcome to Hogwarts. To our returning students, welcome back. But, as this is your last night of freedom, I won't waste your time with further formalities — let the festivities commence!"

At once, the plates along the tables were filled with food. And not just any food, the kind of food Elaine would serve to the LaChance's fancy guests. Never once in her life did she imagine herself partaking in such a meal. She began with a few potatoes.

While everyone seemed content, Hermione nervously wrung her hands. Her food was untouched.

"Are you alright," Elaine asked.

"There's still no sign of Harry or Ron. Ron never misses a meal. What if something's happened to them?"

"Relax," one of the twins interrupted, "they're probably just mucking about in the common room."

"Yeah, they probably think that because they're in second year they're too cool for the sorting ceremony." 

Despite the second twin's comfort, Hermione still squirmed in her seat.

"Harry Potter?" one boy asked with an Irish accent. "I heard he's just come in a flying car. Dean saw everything. He and Weasley crashed it into the Whomping Willow, and now Snape's having it out at them in his office. Look, there he is now —"

Just as the Irish boy finished, a tall, thin, greasy man walked into the Great Hall; his hooked nose was just slightly to big for his thin face, which was framed by oily black hair. From shadowy eyes, he peered disapprovingly over everything. His thick black cloak billowed behind his long stride. All in all, he had a sour air about him.

"That's Snape?" Elaine whispered to Hermione.

"Professor Snape. He's the potions master." 

Elaine swallowed hard as she thought of her upcoming potions lessons. She watched as the potion master walked up to the professor's table. He interrupted Professor McGonagall just as she returned.

"He's getting ol' McGonagall - they must be in some serious trouble," the Irish boy said.

"Why do you say that?" Elaine asked.

"She's head of Gryffindor house. She could expel them, if she likes."

_"Expel?"_ Hermione's food nearly fell out of her mouth.

"They can't expel Harry Potter, can they?" Ginny asked. "I mean, he's the Boy Who Lived."

The others just shrugged. Elaine turned back to her own food, though she found she wasn't able to eat too much of it. Her stomach was used to far simpler meals. When it was finally over, they were instructed to follow their prefects up to their houses. Elaine joined the Gryffindors as they followed Ginny's other older brother, Percy Weasley, out of the Great Hall and up the grand marble staircase in the entrance hall.

"The staircases move!" one of Elaine's fellow first year Gryffindors exclaimed.

Percy had led them into another chamber; it was full of stone stairs that changed places. Elaine had to tilt her head back at an uncomfortable angle to take in all the steps and paintings in the tall space. But, as their prefect led them up a staircase, Hermione darted up another.

"Where are you going?" Ginny called after her.

"To look for Harry and Ron."

Without missing a beat, Ginny took off after her, urging Elaine to follow. Elaine did miss a beat; Ginny was the adventurous one, and the only true Gryffindor between them two. Still, with a groan and a tense swallow, she followed suit. She reasoned that it was the best way to get acquainted with the castle.

Hermione led them down many long stone corridors, each one as Gothically elaborate as the last. Ginny was nearly in step with the second year witch, while Elaine found herself trailing behind. This was partly to do with the butterflies that seemed to tug her backward, and her immense fascination with the art and architecture. Suddenly her concentration on the patterns in the columns was broken by a loud clatter — a suit of armour collapsed nearly on top of her. She nearly fell as she jumped out of the way.

"Boo!" a disembodied voice shouted. Elaine let out a small scream.

A pale, translucent image drifted out from where the armour had stood; it appeared to be a wiry man, with beady black eyes. Elaine gasped.

"You're a... you're a ghost!"

"Poltergeist, more like," Hermione corrected her with an obvious edge of annoyance. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Ginny, Elaine, this is Peeves." 

"At your service, my ladies. What might three little witches be doing wandering the castle at this time, so very alone?" He bowed extravagantly where he floated, his drawl thick with sarcasm. 

"We were just looking for our friends, but we'll be on our way." Hermione attempted to flee.

"Ah, yes, Potty and Weasel. Potty and Weasel!" he shrieked. Elaine winced. "You won't find them around here, wee lass. They've been expelled." 

Elaine noted how he spoke as if he enjoyed the taste of his words.

"No, that can't be right..." Hermione began.

Peeves just cackled.

Hermione led Ginny and Elaine back the direction they'd come, until finally they reached a part of the castle that was vaguely familiar. There was more light and more noise. Suddenly, Hermione dashed forward.

" _There_ you are!" she squealed. "Where have you _been?"_

She came to stop, and Ginny and Elaine caught up to her - she was shouting at two boys, a red-head who must be Ginny's brother, Ron, and the black-haired boy with the round glasses she remembered from Kings Cross. _Was that just earlier today?_ she thought to herself as she thought back to the last time she saw that pair of bright green eyes.

"The most _ridiculous_ rumors — someone said you'd been expelled for crashing a flying _car —"_

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry told them. Elaine could sense Ginny struggling to breathe next to her.

"You're not telling me you _did_ fly here?" 

Hermione sounded nearly as stern as Professor McGonagall as she yelled at them.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Skip the lecture and tell us the password."

Elaine's stomach suddenly lurched; no one had said anything about a password. What if she forgot it and couldn't get in? What if there were other places in the castle that needed passwords?

"It's _wattlebird_ ," Hermione huffed, "but that's not important -"

Suddenly, she was interrupted by a woman's high, nasally voice. It was coming from one of the low-hanging portraits, of a fat lady dressed in a nauseating shade of pink. She was chattering about ' _the Boy Who Lived,'_ and _'up to more mischief... out past curfew again,'_ and _'crashed a flying car... into the Whomping Willow, poor thing...'_ as the painting swung open. All of a sudden, they were bombarded with cheering. Ron and Harry were pulled into the clamour, whilst the the three girls had to clamber after them.

Behind the portrait, there was a large circular room. Throngs of Gryffindors packed it, standing on tables and squashy chairs; it was plush and cozy, and just a bit overstated. Whoever had designed this room hadn't considered modesty.

"Brilliant! Inspired!" said a dark-skinned boy with dreadlocks. "What an entrance! Flying car straight into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years —"

"Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?" Fred and George, the only two people Elaine recognized, said together as they stepped out of the crowd.

"Got to get upstairs," said Ron suddenly. 

He and Harry quickly began to make their way to the stairs. Elaine could see Ron's older brother, Prefect Percy, attempting to make his way through the crowd; he looked ready to tear them limb from limb.

"Night!" Harry called back to Hermione and her two companions. At once, the crowds slowly dispersed.

"So, that's Harry Potter," Elaine said.

"Yes, and he's a complete idiot," Hermione huffed some more.

"He's a hero," Ginny said, her eyes transfixed on where he'd disappeared. "He's the Boy Who Lived."

"What does that mean?"

"He defeated You-Know-Who. No one has seen him for over ten years," Ginny explained, blushing.

Elaine turned back to the stairs, looking to where he'd been only moments before. He must be remarkable, for everybody seemed enthralled by him. Elaine thought, perhaps, that she should get to know him, too. But she also thought that he must be much to popular for someone like her. Her heart experienced a distinct sinking sensation — she ignored it as Hermione showed her and Ginny to their room.

<><<>><>

Despite the fact that this was the single most comfortable bed Elaine had ever lain in, she couldn't sleep. Her mind turned over and over in her head. 

She thought about Hogwarts, imagining what it will look like in the daylight, imagining the many corridors yet unseen. She thought of her upcoming classes, and her impending sessions with Professor Snape. She thought of her grandparents, the fact that they were even her grandparents, and what they must think of her, now.

And this thought brought her mind to her letter. Not her Hogwarts letter, not her father's letter, but the first letter. The letter she'd never received until earlier that day, thanks to Maria — now, that felt like a lifetime ago.

She sat up in bed and looked around at the other girls. There was Ginny, and three others whom she'd have to get to know. Silently, she slipped from her bed, flicking open the latch on her trunk and retrieving the letter. It wasn't difficult, as there wasn't much within to conceal it.

Elaine moved to the window, where there was faint moonlight. She opened the letter with weak hands. It wasn't very long, and it was written in the same green ink as her Hogwarts letter. It was dated the thirty-first of October, nineteen eighty-one.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. LaChance,_

_Regrettably, I write to inform you that your daughter, Elizabeth Rose Riddle, has passed away yesterday night. She was the victim of the killing curse at the hands of The Dark Lord Voldemort, a notorious dark wizard who has been terrorizing our world for some time, now. Elizabeth was, unfortunately, the latest in a long line of victims._

_As her husband is, of late, absent, you shall henceforth be recognized as the guardians of their child, Elaine Riddle. I trust that she shall be safe and well cared for in the home of her grandparents._

_Should the time come that the child wishes to follow in the footsteps of her mother, her name shall be down at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Until then, it is my hope that you will care for her as your own._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Elaine lowered the letter and stared out the tall window to the glittering night. _Professor Dumbledore must know who I am,_ she thought, her mind spinning yet faster than before. _He must have known my parents. He must have been the one to leave me with my grandparents._

For the first time since she'd received her Hogwarts letter — nay, the first time in her life — there wasn't a single trace of doubt in her mind. She stared out her window and knew that, somehow, this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

<><<>><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya I had a longer one coming. I hope it was worth the investment!


	6. Magic Spells And Mysterious Voices

"Stop that, you're making me nervous," Ginny whispered as she shoved her with her elbow.

"Sorry," muttered Elaine, trying to still her anxious fidgeting. She glanced again around the dim room, taking note of all the mysterious odds and ends that made her stomach knot itself. "It's just our luck that our very first class at Hogwarts has to be Potions."

"Shh."

Ginny hushed her as the door burst open. The tall dark figure of Professor Snape breezed in, his long cloak billowing behind him like smoke. He seemed more oily up close.

"Do not even think about trying to show off in this class. I can hardly count the number of arrogant first years who've landed themselves in the hospital wing with their tomfoolery."

A quiet whisper ruffled through the class of Gryffindors and Slytherins, and Elaine swallowed hard; she fought the instinct to push her bag full of her potions supplies far away from her as the professor continued.

"Potionmaking is a subtle and delicate trade. If you wish to avoid a catastrophe, you will follow my instructions, and my instructions only. Am I perfectly clear?"

Elaine couldn't help but nod her head ardently. But, as her eyes flitted around the room, she noticed that she was the only one to do so. Professor Snape's eyes were trained on her. They burned.

"Turn to page eleven."

With that, he launched into their first ever class at Hogwarts. Elaine opened her text to a potion for curing boils. Her stomach lurched as she read over the instructions; she'd never done anything like this ever before, and she was plagued by visions of accidentally turning herself into a cricket, or a mouse. 

"Relax, Elaine," she muttered, just loud enough for only herself to hear. "It's just like cooking with Maria. Sort of."

She and Ginny paired themselves together and began working, one step at a time. Elaine crushed six snake fangs in her mortar, adding what she hoped was the prescribed four measures to her cauldron. _Just like grinding spices,_ she thought with a small smile. Then, as she let it stew, she took to cutting her Pungous onions.

"Miss..." 

The slow drawl of Professor Snape's voice sounded directly above her. Her body seemed to freeze, and slowly, she looked up.

"LaChance," she squeaked.

"Miss. LaChance, what does your textbook instruct you to do with your Pungous onions?"

"It says to slice them finely," she said with a nervous glace to her book.

"And would you say that these are sliced finely?"

He shoved her onion slices closer to her for inspection. Elaine opened her mouth to speak, but no words seemed to form there. Snape sneered.

"Slice them, _finely._ "

He billowed away to criticize the others, and Elaine continued slicing her onions more intently; by the time her potion was ready for them, her onions were sliced so finely she could have sipped her tea through them. She added in the nettles along with the onions. Ginny added the dash of flobberworm mucus, stirring their potion vigorously as instructed. Across the room, a couple of the Slytherins had also reached this step, only their potion had turned a bright shade of fuchsia. Elaine's and Ginny's looked more like purplish brown, and they exchanged a nervous glance.

They stirred in the ginger root gently, and the pickled Shrake spines, then stewed their horned slugs. Soon, as Ginny stirred the cauldron, a green smoke began to rise from the liquid.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Elaine muttered to her partner. Ginny just shrugged.

"I think it means they've finished. I suppose we add the porcupine quills, now..."

"Wait!" Elaine shouted as Ginny reached for the quills. "It says to add them _after_ you remove the cauldron from the heat. I mean, we don't know what'll happen -"

"Your cauldron would melt," Snape interjected, having appeared in front of them like a ghost; Elaine looked up with a gasp, "drenching you in a potion that would cause painful boils to break out all over your body. That very disaster came upon a boy last year. Ten points will be taken from Gryffindor for Miss. Weasley's carelessness."

Elaine returned the mournful glance Ginny sent her with a look of silent sympathy. Her expression quickly faded to one of nausea as the potion master stopped in front of her, next.

"And you can take ten points, Miss. LaChance, for your meticulousness," he added, with an obvious sneer. 

However, as he looked down on her, his narrow eyes seemed to study her. Asses her. It was almost as if he was searching her for something. This very same searching gaze followed her from the classroom.

<><<>><>

The rest of Elaine's first day at Hogwarts passed without much of a fuss. She'd stayed close to Ginny, who was the only one between the two of them who had any notion of how to be a witch. At any rate, they'd survived until lunch. Elaine followed Ginny outside, into the courtyard; it was overcast as they walked to the greenhouses for their first lesson in herbology. Elaine had maintained Mrs. LaChance's garden since could sit up. She wasn't nervous. 

"There he is," Ginny muttered, grabbing hold of Elaine's arm; she nearly dropped her books. "Let's hurry, before he notices."

"Since when are you shy, Ginny Weasley?" Elaine muttered back. She noticed Harry Potter sitting several paces ahead of them.

"Hey, Gin."

Too late. Her older brother had blown her cover. Ginny turned beet red in an instant.

"Hi, Ron..."

"Hi, Ginny," Harry chimed in. 

"Hi," Ginny peeped. Ron seemed to smirk.

"Harry, Ron," Hermione piped up, clearing her throat, "I don't believe you've met Elaine."

"Not really, but we met at the train station," Harry replied. He smiled a warm smile, and Elaine noticed that this warmth seemed to spread inside her.

"I'm Harry Potter."

"I'm Elaine LaChance." They shook hands.

"Which class do you have?"

"Herbology."

"We were just about on our way to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Ginny and I had that before lunch."

"It was dreadful," Ginny interjected. "Lockhart wouldn't stop talking about the Bandon Banshee."

"He'll do that," Ron sniggerd.

"If you ask me, something's off about that man," Elaine said. And not long before she was interrupted.

"Hiya, Elaine!" 

A small voice demanded their attention. Elaine recognized it instantly, since it sent her stomach into a twist.

"Hi, Colin..."

"Do you think you could... " Colin began, tipping his blonde curls in the direction of the Boy Who Lived. Elaine tried not to roll her eyes.

"Colin, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Colin Creevey."

He took a small step forward, camera at the ready. "Alright, Harry? I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think — would it be alright if — can I have a picture? To prove I've met you?"

Harry seemed at a loss for words.

"I know all about you," he continued. "Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead." 

Elaine saw the boy's wide eyes linger not-so-inconspicuously on Harry Potter's head. Admittedly, Elaine herself couldn't keep her eyes from flicking quickly upward. As Colin chattered on, Elaine's thought's hinged on what he said before, about Voldemort, and what could have happened oh so many years ago. 

"Maybe Elaine could take the picture, and I could stand next to you, and you could sign it —"

" _Signed photos?"_

A nasally voice pierced the conversation. A boy Harry's age — tall, thin, his white-blonde hair slicked back from his narrow face — forced himself upon them. His robes labelled him a Slytherin, and his demeanour labelled him a problem.

"You're giving out _signed photos,_ Potter?"

"No, I'm not. Shut up, Malfoy."

"Everybody line up!" Malfoy shouted. "Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"Want one?" Elaine retorted. She'd caught herself too late.

"Want a photo of Scarhead, here? No, thanks — you can have mine, Pigtails."

"They're braids -"

"Save it for somebody who cares, Pigtails."

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," she heard Ron mutter.

"What's all this?" 

None other than Gilderoy Lockhart, whom they'd been discussing mere moments prior, was approaching them; his colourful robes made him impossible to miss. But Elaine supposed that was the point. 

"Harry Potter, we meet again!"

The professor had grabbed a hold of Harry and was trying to convince little Colin to snap a picture, and they'd _both_ sign it, what a treat. Harry just seemed baffled as he tried to squirm his way out of Lockhart's grasp, and out of range of Colin's prying camera. 

Soon after, Professor Lockhart shooed the crowd, dragging Harry alongside him as he returned to the castle. Harry cast a pleading look to his friends behind him, but they all just shrugged.

"Bye, Harry!" Ginny called after him, a tad too hurriedly.

"We'd better follow him," Hermione said, closing her copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ and urging Ron to follow. "See you around."

They left the two first year ladies standing in the courtyard, feeling baffled and confused, and a little at a loss. They exchanged a glance — Ginny seemed thoroughly embarrassed, her brown doe-eyes wide as they stared at Elaine. And Elaine knew that she must look much the same.

"Well," Elaine began, "Herbology awaits."

"Let's get out of here..."

Ginny's ears still burned red as she tried to hide behind her books. Elaine just laughed as she led them off to Greenhouse One.

<><<>><>

At last, Elaine's first week at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came to a close. Come Saturday, she could officially call herself a witch. Sort of. At least she could find her own way around the castle, now. Sort of. However, she could accompany herself down to the Great Hall for her first week-end dinner, which is exactly what she did since Ginny wasn't in their room. She wasn't in the common room, either, and Elaine didn't know where else to look. So, for her first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Elaine ventured off without her.

"What are you wearing, Pigtails?" 

She heard the nasally sneer of Draco Malfoy grate her from behind. She kept walking.

"You look like one of my father's maids." He and his goons all howled, persistent as ever. "Would you shine my shoes, Pigtails?"

Elaine looked down at herself; she was, in fact, wearing her maid's uniform. Usually, she was proud to don her grey frock, but for the first time as she walked into the Great Hall, she felt a twinge of self-consciousness. She smoothed it out as Malfoy led his goons in a chorus of laughter.

Slowly, she walked along the Gryffindor table, trying not to look lost. Ginny was not at dinner. Elaine swallowed, sitting stiffly at the table and hoping she didn't seem lonely. She took a plate, timidly helping herself to small portions of this-and-that as she glanced up and down the table. She noticed Hermione, stuffing her fork in her mouth as she devoured a book. She was also eating alone; Harry and Ron were probably serving their detentions. Further down the table in the general direction of the Weasley twins, a spoon went flying.

Elaine ate quickly, as she always did. Maids had to. They weren't paid to stuff themselves with their employer's food, the LaChances would say. Then again, they'd only paid her pence. Elaine's stomach twisted at the thought, the eleven years, the lies. 

"Are you alright?" 

A voice pulled her out of the LaChance manor and back to the Great Hall. It was a boy, perhaps a year older than her, with a round face and dark shaggy hair. She'd hardly noticed him there, before, but she guessed that he got that a lot.

"Fine. Just thinking about... potions class," she lied.

"I always dread potions. It's my worst class. I can't make heads or tails out of it."

"The potions aren't so bad. It's mostly like cooking. It's the potions master that makes me nervous." 

They shared a knowing laugh.

"I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Elaine."

He extended his hand to her across the table, and she shook it. With Neville Longbottom to keep her occupied, she began to forget altogether that Ginny had stood her up. And it was nice to finally have her very first conversation with a friendly stranger. She and Ginny had become friends of circumstance, having been thrust together, but never before had Elaine conversed with someone whom she hadn't met. Maids were to be seen and not heard, after all. Even at that, it was best if they weren't seen at all. So, for the first time, Elaine talked to somebody.

Neville told her all about the band of Cornish pixies that had hung him up on the chandelier during his first Defense Against the Dark Arts Lesson — Elaine wasn't surprised, given the professor. However, her laugh was cut short.

"What was that?" she asked, her smile instantly falling.

A low rumble sounded, Elaine couldn't tell from where, and almost as soon as she'd heard it, a voice followed. It sounded like a hiss, a sound that made the air go cold.

_Come... come to me..._

"What was what?" Neville asked, incredulous.

_"That!"_

"I don't hear anything..." 

Elaine jumped out of her seat, her dinner half untouched. She muttered an abrupt apology as she ran from the Great Hall.

_Let me rip you..._

She hurried, trying to keep up with the voice. She knew that wherever its owner was, that wasn't somewhere she wanted to be. But she also knew that she was the only one who could hear it, and whatever it was, it was about to do something horrible.

_Let me tear you..._

She ran with a hand against the walls, which is where it sounded like it was coming from - though she didn't know how that was even possible.

_Let me kill you..._

Elaine screamed. She rounded a corner, and in front of her stood Harry Potter, who she'd nearly just toppled over.

"Harry!"

"Elaine? What are you doing here?" They steadied each other.

"I–I could ask you the same thing," she retorted, tensing. She knew he'd sooner think she was crazy if she told him the truth.

"I..." he stammered, "I was just on my way from detention."

"Bugger," she muttered. Elaine pretended not to note his hesitation.

"Lockhart had me addressing his fan mail. It was a nightmare."

"I was just on my way up to bed," Elaine fibbed, inwardly groaning at her awkwardness.

"On this side of the castle?" 

Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement. Elaine looked at her black maid's shoes, trying to hide her blush.

"I guess I got a bit turned around."

"Come on. It's this way."

Harry turned around and gestured for her to follow. Really, she had known exactly where she was, and she kicked herself for such a tactless lie. Yet, as she walked with Harry Potter, she found herself slowly caring less and less. She hardly noticed when they reached the painting of the fat lady.

"Next time, just stick to the corridors you know," he teased as they came into the common room. Elaine nodded.

"Ron's probably back from his detention already. I should..." he trailed off with a gesture to the stairs that led to the boy's dormitories.

"I should, as well."

"Goodnight, Elaine."

"Goodnight, Harry."

She climbed the stairs, turning into the first room. Perhaps it was from the events just minutes earlier putting her on edge, or perhaps it was her lack of attention, but Elaine nearly jumped out of her skin when she entered to see Ginny sitting on her bed.

"You're early," she told her, trying to catch her breath. "You'll never believe what just happened —"

Elaine wasn't sure Ginny had even noticed her come in; she sat on her bed, cross legged, staring straight ahead. Her eyes seemed glassy.

"Ginny?"

"Hm, yes?" She snapped out of it, her head whipping up to look at her concerned friend.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, um," Ginny stammered, and Elaine watched as she took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes, "yeah, I'm fine... I'm sorry, Lainey."

Elaine sat on her own bed. "Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded, and Elaine reevaluated telling her the story of the mysterious voice. Before she could continue, a couple other first year Gryffindor girls walked in, Petra Allan-Poe and Mary Gooddige; she watched Ginny carefully as she recoiled, slipping under her blankets and burying herself in what appeared to be a diary. Elaine began to re-braid her hair, hoping that giving her friend some space was the right idea. 

<><<>><>


	7. The Halloween Hauntings Of Hogwarts

The weeks flew by, Elaine doing little other than attending her classes and doing her homework. She was very nearly at the top of her class; she was beginning to see why the Sorting Hat had contemplated placing her in Ravenclaw. But for the moment, Elaine closed her transfiguration text with a smile and climbed the stairs to her dormitory. The Gryffindor common room was emptying fast as everybody made for the Great Hall, and the feast. It was Halloween, after all.

"Ginny, do you want to head down to the feast, now?"

Silence. Putting the book on her bed, Elaine's stomach knotted; she couldn't help but notice Ginny's strange behaviour these past weeks. At first, she thought it was just a reaction to the adjustment of coming to school. Now, however, she suspected that there was something else going on. Although, she knew that Ginny would be the last person to admit it. 

So, Elaine strode alone from Gryffindor Tower. What with Ginny, she did this more often than not these days. The Great Hall was always abuzz with activity, but tonight, Elaine could hear it from several corridors further away than usual. And when she approached, she understood what all the fuss was about.

Hagrid's giant pumpkins sat around the hall, carved into jack-o-lanterns that she could easily fit inside. Bats flew around the inky blue twilight sky above them. Elaine would guess that they were real, not just part of the enchanted ceiling. Around the room, skeletons danced around the tables. Elaine nearly bumped into one as she made to take her seat. There was still no sign of Ginny. Dumbledore stood.

"Good evening, pupils," he began. His voice boomed over the festivities, sudden quiet washing out the noise. 

He continued, "Tonight is recognized as a night of haunting, and of the paranormal. However, my fellow witches and warlocks, here at Hogwarts, we know it as one of the most magical nights of the year. Halloween is a time to celebrate the strange, the peculiar, and the very special abilities that set us apart from the world." At this, Dumbledore raised his glass of pumpkin juice. "A toast, to all our strangeness, and all our peculiarities."

A collective _'here here!'_ resonated in the Great Hall as hundreds of students raised their glasses.

"Let the festivities commence!"

At Dumbledore's command - just like Elaine's first Hogwarts feast - the platters were suddenly filled with food. From end to end, the tables displayed every kind of Halloween treat one could imagine. Elaine hardly knew where to begin. She'd never celebrated Halloween before; the LaChances didn't believe in the pagan holiday.

Now, she was faced with enough of it to make up for every single Halloween she'd ever missed. She knew she'd never be able to eat it all, yet still she piled her plate high for the first time. Even at Hogwarts Elaine practiced small portions - being raised on modest meals, she wasn't much of an eater - but not tonight on this, Hallows' Eve. 

The skeletons continued to dance, and Elaine realized that the pumpkins had been enchanted when their facial expressions began to change; it may have been the general commotion, but she wasn't entirely unconvinced that one of them had talked. She couldn't tell where the music was coming from. 

She shoveled down her pumpkin pasties, determined to finish everything. Tonight, she wanted to go to bed so full it made her feel sick. But, she froze with her fork halfway in her mouth; suddenly it seemed as if all the noise in the Great Hall faded away, replaced by the low rumble echoing in her head. She'd almost forgotten it, but as the cold crept through her once more, she remembered all too vividly.

_… rip..._

Pure involuntary instinct took over. She jumped from her seat, jostling the table. A few students complained as their pumpkin juice sloshed out of their glasses, but Elaine only heard one thing.

_… tear..._

She was out of the Great Hall in a flash — the voice was moving away, moving upward, it seemed.

"Up? How can it be moving up?" Elaine pondered aloud, immediately darting to the nearest staircase.

_… kill..._

She followed the voice up until it led her down a corridor. It wasn't moving as fast now, but Elaine knew that mustn't mean anything good.

_… sooo hungry... for sooo long..._

It had frightened Elaine well enough the last time she'd heard that voice, nearly two months ago. But this time, it seemed even more venomous, even more murderous. This time, it chilled her right to the bones.

_… kill... time to kill..._

She ran faster. She breathed faster. Her heart raced faster. Everything, faster. But by now, she didn't know if she was running toward it, or away.

_… I smell blood..._

She must've been through the entire second floor of Hogwarts. Was it leading her in circles?

_… I SMELL BLOOD!_

She careened into one final corridor. The sound of the voice was replaced by the sound of gentle splashing, and she felt water splatter on her legs - she looked down to see the inch of water she was standing in. It had flooded the entire corridor. She walked forward slowly, her eyes trained on the water, following it down the hall. Until she looked up. She gasped, her eyes stretched wide, both hands clasped over her mouth. Her racing heart stopped.

"Look!"

Elaine nearly screamed as another voice sounded at the end of the corridor. She jumped and stumbled, turning to see Harry, Hermione and Ron. They walked forward. The three of them were looking upward, to the wall, and Elaine did the same. She read the gleaming red letters painted there.

_"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."_

"What's that thing, hanging underneath?" Ron asked with a quiver in his voice. 

"Mrs. Norris," Elaine said mournfully. As dreadful as the cat was, Elaine was a cat person by nature. This was a tragedy.

There was a long pause where they were all silent. That was, until a rumbling sounded from down the corridor. The feast had evidently finished, and now every student at Hogwarts was about to witness this atrocity. As they all filed in, the noise gave way to silence as they read the words on the wall. Shock rippled through the crowd.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware — you'll be next, mudbloods!"

Malfoy's weaselly drone broke the silence. Elaine's anger boiled in her stomach, and she would've shot him a hot glare if she hadn't bigger concerns. Behind him, she saw the crowd parting. Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts and the owner of the unfortunate cat, stepped through. His face whitened immediately. 

"My cat!" he wailed. "My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris!?" 

He turned on Harry, next. 

"You... _You..._ You murdered my cat! I'll bloody kill you! I'll -!"

"Argus!"

A stronger voice, yet, cut above Filch's shrieks. Professor Dumbledore had arrived, followed by several other professors. Elaine felt a brief sense of relief. Though, she guessed that Professor Lockhart would be as useless as ever. Wordlessly, Dumbledore swept past them all, and everyone watched, stunned, as he unhooked the cat. He instructed Filch to follow him.

"You as well, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss. Granger." 

They started off toward Lockhart's office, which he'd most graciously offered to their use; perhaps he wasn't entirely useless. Just as the crowd shifted to let them pass, Dumbledore hesitated. 

"And you, Miss. LaChance."

For a moment, Elaine stood utterly baffled. Then, when her wit caught up with her, she scrambled after them. She scurried up to Harry. The walk up to Professor Lockhart's office was completely silent.

Upon their arrival, Lockhart lit the candles with a wave of his wand. Then, he stood uncharacteristically out of the way as Professor Dumbledore began to examine the cat. His face was a mere inch from her fur where she lay on the desk. Professor McGonagall stood in much the same manner. Snape stood a pace behind them, between the professors and the students, and Elaine couldn't tell if his expression was happiness or exasperation. Lockhart paced around them all, offering tidbits of advice and useless information. Poor Filch sat in a chair near the desk, his head in his hands, sobbing.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Elaine stood just outside the circle of the light, observing. Elaine tensed her hands into fists, her fingernails digging uncomfortably into her clammy palms. She watched as the professors worked and Lockhart babbled, until Dumbledore finally interrupted him as if he hadn't been speaking at all.

"She's not dead, Argus," Dumbledore stated, straightening and pushing his spectacles up his long nose. "She has been petrified. But how, I can not say..."

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, pointing his long knobby finger at Harry.

"No second year could have done this, Argus —" Dumbledore reasoned.

"He did it! _He did it!"_

"I never touched Mrs. Norris!" Harry interjected, jumping forward.

"It wasn't Harry."

Elaine spoke before she could stop herself — that seemed to be a nasty habit she was developing. Then, it was as if everyone had been petrified; the room fell absolutely silent, every pair of eyes slowly falling on her. They burned. The only thing that dared to move was the flickering candles.

"If you have something to say, don't be shy —" Snape began, his tone slicing through the little first year — "Spit it out."

Elaine stepped forward. She felt like she was shrinking rapidly. She cleared her throat. 

"I–it wasn't Harry. I was there first, before he was, before any of them were. It wasn't Harry."

"Well, if it wasn't Mr. Potter, then did you see who it was?" Snape continued, slowly striding toward her until he loomed over her. Elaine was as tiny as a mouse, by now.

"N–no. There was water on the floor. A–and when I looked up, I saw..." she trailed off with a hard swallow.

"You saw Mrs. Norris," Dumbledore finished sympathetically for her. 

"She was a-alone," Elaine continued with a nod. "She'd already been... y-you know... "

"Murdered!" Filch wailed.

"For goodness sake, she's not dead, Argus," Professor McGonagall consoled. Though, she seemed more agitated than sympathetic. "We told you, she's only petrified."

"Potter and his friends may simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time," Snape continued, still towering over Elaine. His glare seemed like it could read her mind. "But, we do have a set of suspicious circumstances. Why was he in that corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

Behind Elaine, the three of them simultaneously spewed a jumbled explanation about ghosts, and some sort of deathday. She slipped back in behind them as they explained; though none of it made much sense to Elaine. Then again, nothing this evening had made any sense to her.

"But why not join the feast afterward?" Snape asked, clearly determined to catch them in a lie. "Why go up to that corridor?"

"Because," Harry stammered, "because we... were tired, and wanted to go to bed."

Part of his answer seemed like it was supposed to be a question. Snape could tell. He smiled a wickedly triumphant smile.

"Without any supper? I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for the living at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," Ron answered. Elaine's stomach dropped - no one would believe that Ron Weasley wasn't hungry. To confirm her fear, his stomach gave a loud and untimely growl. Snape smiled wider. He turned to Dumbledore.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful. It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Now, really, Severus," Professor McGonagall interceded, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch."

Elaine didn't think this was about punishment; there was obviously a deep seated rivalry, here. Now, everyone turned to Dumbledore, where the decision ultimately lay. The room fell silent, again, as the Headmaster eyed the Boy Who Lived. Finally, he breathed deeply and spoke.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."

Elaine exhaled audibly. With that, they were all dismissed. Elaine hurried away, staying very close to the trio. They escaped into the empty corridors, quickly maneuvering their way to the safety of the Gryffindor common room. There was only the sound of their shoes tapping along the floor to break the silence. That was, until Harry spoke, once they were all a safe distance away from the professors.

"Do you think I should have told them about the voice?"

"No," Ron replied. "Hearing voices is never a good sign, Harry. Even for a wizard."

Elaine stopped dead in her tracks. Her voice was hardly above a whisper.

"You heard a voice?"

The three of them turned to look at her. Harry's bright eyes were wide behind his glasses, filled with emerald apprehension.

"Don't you believe me?"

"Of course I do. It's just..." she hesitated as she looked between them. Perhaps Ron was right, and she should just keep her mouth shut.

"What is it?" Harry encouraged.

"I heard it," Elaine whispered.

"You did? You heard the voice?"

Harry stood, the apprehension in his green eyes replaced with disbelief. Elaine folded her hands meekly in front of her small form, looking down at her maid's shoes and nodding her head quickly.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Harry seemed to border between confusion and anger.

"I thought I was crazy."

The three of them softened as they looked at her. Harry stepped forward, an apologetic smile seeping onto his face.

"I thought I was crazy, too."

He reached out and took her arm, and together the four of them returned to the common room. With any luck, it would be empty by now. All Elaine could think about was sleep. She hoped that all the unanswered questions wouldn't keep her awake.

<><<>><>


	8. A Meeting With Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaine is confronted with some unsettling questions in the Headmaster's office.

Elaine sat at the Gryffindor table, shutting out the ruckus of the Great Hall as she picked away silently at her dinner. She had a lot to think about, from her homework, to the elusive Chamber of Secrets, to worrying for Ginny who had skipped out on dinner yet again.

She was so absorbed that even Neville Longbottom left her alone. He'd tried to say hello, and Elaine would normally have obliged him. But, at her half-hearted smile, he'd resigned himself to his meal.

"Are these seats taken?"

A high voice captured half her attention. She looked up to see Hermione Granger, Harry and Ron in tow. She shook her head. The second years sat, girls on one side and boys on the other.

"Don't you normally eat with Ginny?" Ron asked as he piled food onto his plate.

"She didn't want to come down." 

Elaine muttered into her plate, which was still full. To her left, Hermione was shoving around her books, and one of the titles caught her eye.

 _"Moste Potente Potions,"_ she read. "My, that looks like it belongs in the restricted section."

"That's because it does," Ron replied, his mouth full.

"Really? How did you get it?" 

Elaine gawked at it, pulling it toward her. She examined the cover closely; it looked exactly like what she'd imagine a powerful potions book to look like.

"We got a note from Professor Lockhart," Hermione told her. "I told him I wanted to do a little background reading on one of his books."

"He'll autograph anything you put under his nose," Ron sniggered. Hermione shot him a glare.

"Really, this is what we needed it for."

Hermione opened the book to a brew called Polyjuice potion. It turned its subject into another's form. Elaine couldn't keep her mouth from hanging open.

"What do you need something like this for?" 

She flipped through the pages, slowly, looking over the many different types of potions. Most of them were vile.

It was Harry's turn to answer. He lowered his voice and leaned in. "We're going to turn ourselves into a few of the Slytherins."

"What? Why would you want to do a thing like that?" It took all of Elaine's self-control not to shout in amazement.

"So we can break into the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions," Harry replied.

Ron slouched toward his friend and muttered, "Do you really think we should be telling her all this?"

"Relax, Ron. It's only Elaine," Hermione huffed.

Suddenly, Elaine clued in.

"Wait, you don't think..."

"That Malfoy is the heir of Slytherin? It would make perfect sense — his entire family was in Slytherin. Not to mention he hates muggle-borns," said Harry.

Suddenly, Hermione snapped the book shut. She tucked it away in her book bag, and hissed at her friends.

"Shh! It's McGonagall!"

Elaine saw the tall hat of their Head of House bobbing above the heads of the students. She came into view just a moment later, long robes swaying, looking down her sharp nose.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Hermione.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley..." 

Elaine could see the twitch of annoyance as she observed Ron, bits of food falling from his overstuffed mouth. She turned to Elaine, next.

"And, Miss. LaChance. It is you who I've come to collect."

"Me?" she nearly gasped.

"Yes, you. Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with you in his office. Come along, now —"

Elaine gave the others a baffled expression, which they returned. Hesitantly, she arose from her seat. Ron reached across the table and pulled her plate to himself as she followed the professor from the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall lead the girl through the castle, past the entrance hall, and up the stairs, silent all the while. Elaine's mind turned over and over, revolving in a whirlwind as she tried to figure out why she could possibly be required in the headmaster's office; she went to all of her classes, she always did her homework. In fact, she was near the top in each of her classes. She wondered if it had something to do with Mrs. Norris's petrification, or Slytherin's Heir.

She also wondered, in the back of her mind, if maybe it had something to do with the letter he left with her eleven years ago. Her stomach turned in on itself.

They arrived at a grande statue — one of many, in Hogwarts — and Professor McGonagall uttered a password which Elaine's spinning mind didn't comprehend. She was lead up the stairs to a wooden door, and the professor knocked twice. Elaine's heart thudded as she heard the Headmaster beckon from within.

Professor McGonagall pushed open the door, taking the girl by the arm and leading her inside. Professor Dumbledore stood in front of his desk. He already had company; Professor Snape stood by the bookcase near a small window. He looked at her with disdain and a slight edge of curiosity.

"Ah yes, come in, come in," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes. "Thank you, Minerva. You may go." 

He turned to Snape, who stood looming over the girl. "You may go too, Severus. We can finish this discussion another time." 

Professor Snape still had that curious expression, and seemed almost hesitant to leave. But before long he followed her escort out the door. As he approached her, his eyes bore holes through her, like he was trying to pry her open and observe her. Then, he passed with a billow of his cloak. Elaine was left in private with the headmaster.

She felt utterly small, wringing her hands nervously within her robes. Professor Dumbledore walked around his desk and seated himself. He sat back, and Elaine watched him look her over.

"You mustn't look so perturbed, my dear. You're not in any trouble."

Elaine exhaled audibly and relaxed her hands. She promptly obeyed as the headmaster gestured for her to come forward. She stood in front of his desk.

"How are you enjoying your time at Hogwarts, Miss. LaChance?"

"I like it a lot, sir."

"I imagine it must be a very different from living with the muggles."

"Yes, sir. But in a good way."

"Did they tell you of your abilities?"

"No, sir," replied Elaine, looking to her shoes. Her maid's shoes. "I never knew magic existed until I got my Hogwarts letter. They never even told me they were my grandparents — they raised me as their maid."

"Did they, now? I regret to hear it. I'm very sorry that you've had to endure such treatment these eleven years."

Elaine just shrugged. She supposed that the mercy was not knowing any better, then. 

Dumbledore continued, "But, you seem to be doing quite well for yourself. You are faring exceedingly well in your studies, and I noticed you've been making friends with Miss. Weasley."

Dumbledore leaned forward, now, looking at her over the rims of his spectacles. Something about his air changed, became more serious, and Elaine's old anxiety crept back in. It appeared he was getting to the real reason he'd summoned her here.

"Miss. LaChance, I believe you to be the victim of very poor circumstance, after the events of several days ago. I do not hold you in any responsibility for what happened to our caretaker's cat. But, I must know if there was anything you might be able to tell me about what happened that night."

"No, Professor. I told you everything."

"Are you quite certain of that?"

Elaine was on the point of affirming, but froze. Should she tell him about the voice? Would he think she was crazy? Ron had said, even for a wizard, that was never good. But, say he did believe her — would it implicate her?

"Yes, professor."

He raised a bushy white eyebrow, assessing the girl's demeanor. 

"Is there something _you'd_ like to ask _me?"_

Elaine's eyes remained on her hands; she thought of the letter he'd left with her on the LaChance doorstep. She thought of the unsigned letter.

"You changed my name, here, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

She nodded quietly, making the decision not to press any further; she came to Hogwarts to learn about herself, but some place inside her still wasn't ready.

"Is that all, sir?" she asked, instead.

"Yes, Miss. LaChance, that is all."

She dipped her head to him and walked swiftly to the door. But, an intrusive cough from the headmaster made her stop and turn back to him, halfway out.

"My door is always open, if ever you wish to speak with me."

Elaine forced a smile. She nodded quickly, tensely, before fleeing his office. Even as she slipped through the door, she felt Dumbledore's eyes on her. They followed her down the steps and all the way back to the common room. Even there, she still felt them burning though she knew she was well away and safe from prying eyes.

Ahead of her was the trio, sitting in a triangle in front of the fireplace. Hermione was the first to notice her enter; she looked up from her book with a swish of bushy hair.

"Elaine," she beckoned. Elaine sat timidly — the warmth of the fire felt nice. "What did Dumbledore want with you?"

"He wanted to know if there was anything I hadn't told him about when Mrs. Norris was petrified."

"You didn't tell him about the voice, did you?" Harry asked, alarm stretching his eyes wide behind his glasses.

"No, of course not," Elaine assured him. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," Ron said. "People already don't trust him as it is. We don't need to give them any more reason to believe that Harry could be the Heir of Slytherin."

"It's absolutely preposterous," Hermione added.

"Is it?" Harry asked. "I mean, then why can I hear that voice?"

"But I heard it too, Harry," Elaine reminded him. "You're no more Slytherin's heir than I am."

Elaine gave him a reassuring smile, which he returned to her. And, as the four of them quieted again, Elaine was nothing but disquieted within. She turned to the fire, the flames dancing in her eyes as her thoughts danced behind them. She realized that Harry was asking the right question; why _could_ they hear the voice? Was it something to do with the mysterious Dark Lord that nobody would tell her about? But, what so disturbed her was the question that followed — what had she to do with it?

"Do you think that this has anything to do with Voldemort?" she asked, finally, breaking the silence. Hermione gasped, and Ron uttered a _'bloody hell'_ under his breath.

"Why are you all so afraid of his name?"

"We don't say it," Ron explained.

"But, _why?"_

Hermione took over the explanation. "He tried to take over the world. He wanted to wipe out every muggle-born witch and wizard, because he thought they weren't worthy of their magic. He was powerful, more powerful than any one man should be. If you didn't support him, you were killed."

"He killed my parents," Harry said, "the night he gave me this." 

He held up the front fringes of his dark hair, and for the first time, Elaine got a good and proper look his his famous lightning scar. Elaine sat forward on her knees.

"He killed my mum. And probably my dad, too."

Harry gave her a knowing smile. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They told me my parents died in a car crash. My room was in the cupboard under the stairs until I went to Hogwarts."

"Worst kind of muggles," Ron muttered.

"I understand," Elaine sympathized. "I was raised by my grandparents. But, they were so ashamed of my mother, they didn't tell me my name until the day I left for Hogwarts."

"What? You didn't know you were a LaChance?" Hermione asked, dumbfounded. Elaine just nodded. "Then what _did_ they tell you?"

"They told me I was left with just the name Elaine. They said they didn't know by who."

"But then why would they take you in the first place, if they hated your mum so much? Why go to all the trouble of lying?" Ron asked. Hermione smacked him with her book.

"They didn't exactly take me in. I was a maid."

Elaine gestured to herself; she was wearing her maid's uniform. Her uniforms were the only things she owned. 

"Blimey," Ron said. Hermione just shook her head.

"And I thought the Dursleys were bad," said Harry.

"Well, at least I didn't have to sleep in a broom cupboard."

A quiet laugh spread through them. For a moment, Elaine's anxieties stilled. But as she turned back to the fire, resting her chin on her knees, she couldn't help but let them back into her mind. And, she couldn't help feeling that she should have asked Dumbledore the question that burned in her like the flames in the Gryffindor fireplace.

<><<>><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's me again!  
> If you're reading this, you've officially arrived at the end of the first half of the novel.  
> I hope you've enjoyed it thus far. At any rate, if you've stuck it out this long then you're seriously awesome.


	9. Elaine's First Quidditch Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaine learns that quidditch is wild game, and meets an unfortunate guest in the hospital wing.

Another Saturday at Hogwarts; Elaine woke as early as usual, unable to realign her eleven-year-ingrained system by November. Some days she worried that sleeping late may never be something she'd do. She lay in bed, deciding between being idle and worried, or being productive. She made the same decision she had every morning.

Elaine dressed silently — a habit acquired over the years — and gathered her things. She took her history textbook, a supplementary history book from the library, a quill, a roll of parchment and a well of ink with her to the common room. Like upstairs, it was as yet silent.

She unrolled her essay and cracked open her books at a table beside one of the tall windows. The sun was rising beyond it while she worked. Today was going to be the heavy, damp kind, where a storm brewed but never quite decided to break. It was an hour before any others joined her in the common room. The first were a couple of upper years, perhaps in their fifth or sixth; Elaine distracted herself by imagining what fifth or sixth year might be like. 

She managed to finish a few more inches by the time two of her dormmates came down, nearly an hour after the first.

"Petra, Mary," she called, "is Ginny coming down?"

"I don't know," Mary replied, "but she is awake."

"Yeah, she's still up with Holly," said Petra. 

She watched them walk away, and decided that she liked them. Elaine collected her things again and went back up the winding stairs. She exchanged a smile as she passed Holly on her way in. 

She found Ginny sitting cross-legged on her bed. For a moment, she watched her scribbling in what looked like a journal. Elaine opened her trunk.

"Good morning," Elaine said. She was ignored.

She continued as she put her things away, "I see you're dressed."

This earned her a distracted sigh. Elaine looked over her shoulder at her friend, who refused to look up. She closed her trunk with a slam. At that, Ginny's head flew up in a flurry of bright red hair. The journal snapped shut in her lap.

"Good morning," Elaine began again.

"Hi..."

"Breakfast?"

"Um, I dunno —"

"Gin," Elaine walked over, "I've been worried about you. You've been acting off for weeks — and don't think I haven't noticed. We've all noticed. You can't stay shut up in here."

She snatched the journal from her hands, much to Ginny's chagrin. Elaine placed it on the nightstand with her right hand while grabbing Ginny with her left.

"How about we just start with breakfast?"

Hand in hand she led Ginny through the castle, down the long staircases, until they reached the Great Hall. Typically it was quiet at eight a.m. on a Saturday, but today there was more life than usual. They sat. Elaine placed a few pieces of toast on Ginny's plate with a reassuring smile.

At the entrance she saw Harry Potter striding in, Ron and Hermione in tow. This morning he was wearing some sort of uniform.

"That's right — today is the first quidditch match, isn't it?"

Ginny shrugged, staring at her toast. The trio sat a ways down the Gryffindor table.

"We should go," Elaine suggested. Ginny just shrugged again.

"You love quidditch, Gin. You couldn't wait for the season to start."

"I was just going to go back to my room —"

"Come on..." she teased, "you'd get to teach me all about it. And, you know, you could cheer for a particular player with dark hair and green eyes." 

Ginny blushed. Elaine sat back with a triumphant smile.

"I guess that's settled, then."

<><<>><>

Time held its breath as the ball rose into the thick air.

In a rush, all the players flew after it. Most of the spectators whooped as Gryffindor snatched it up.

"That's the quaffle," Ginny explained.

"What's Harry doing?"

"He's the seeker. It's his job to snatch the golden snitch and end the game. It's really hard, because the snitch is so small and fast."

Elaine realized that Draco Malfoy must be a seeker, too.

"So, if you snatch the snitch, you win?"

"Mostly, but not technically. The golden snitch is worth a hundred fifty points."

She watched them dash about on their broomsticks, and hoped that the only thing Malfoy would snatch was some manners. She also hoped it wouldn't rain.

"What are the others doing?"

"Three of them are chasing the quaffle. See? They're called, well, chasers. They have to get it past the keeper, through one of the three hoops. That scores ten points. The other two are beaters — Fred and George are the beaters for Gryffindor — and they have to beat away the bludger, and try to knock the other team off their brooms."

Elaine thought that sounded awfully violent.

She'd never really been one for sports. She'd seen a few polo matches. She'd seen Mr. LaChance play croquet on the grounds behind the mansion. She caddied for him, once, but golf was especially boring. Some evenings, she'd bring him his tea while he was watching football in his study. Or, on the rare occasion Maria took her to the park, she might see some of the children playing cricket.

Perhaps it was the magic, or cheering with her house, or it was game itself, but quidditch was fascinating to Elaine.

"Wait, isn't _that_ the bludger?"

Elaine pointed to one ball, slightly smaller than the quaffle, as it took a dive for Harry. The crowd gasped, except the Slytherins, who cheered. The two girls flew from their seats. They watched Fred and George attempt to beat it away, but it kept coming back. Slytherin managed to sneak in six goals before a time-out was called.

"I wonder if someone's fixed it," Ginny muttered. Elaine swallowed hard — the first few drops of warm rain that fell on her forehead weren't helping her anxiety, either.

Soon, the time-out was over and everybody was flying again. Only this time, Harry was on his own. Ginny latched onto Elaine's arm. The rain began to pick up. Everyone watched Harry dive out of the bludger's path, but it always found him again. She felt Ginny's nails dig into her as he flipped upside down. Elaine couldn't help but admire his delicacy — her own flying lessons weren't half bad, but she knew she'd never be as skilled as Harry. Yet, as she watched him fly, she didn't care.

Harry turned on a dime and the bludger narrowly missed him again. Then, suddenly, he stopped. Malfoy was jeering, and Harry just seemed to be staring at him. _Come on, Harry, you've got to get out of there!_ she thought. She swelled with panic.

"Move!" Elaine screamed.

He clutched at his broomstick again, but just a moment too late. The entire pitch resonated with the sickening _smack_. Ginny practically jumped into her friend's arms. All the spectators watched, unable to breathe as he slid on his broom; he evaded the second attack by a hair.

Then, he careened forward. In a dive, he swooped for Malfoy. Elaine hoped he'd bowl him right into the dirt. But, it wasn't the Slytherin seeker who hit the ground. Harry lunged, one hand outreached, the other wounded and tucked uselessly by his side. The only grip he had on his broom — his wet broom — was his legs. There was a splash of mud as he skid across the pitch. Elaine couldn't help but notice his arm, laying at an unnatural angle. 

But, in his other hand was the golden snitch — she guessed that meant her House had won. But she couldn't focus on that, now.

She felt a strong pull on her arm as Ginny dragged her from the stands. Gryffindors poured out onto the soggy pitch. Elaine's hand slipped from Ginny's as she ran to join the growing pool of students. Elaine stayed back — a crowd was the last place she wanted to be. And, she thought that a crowd was the last thing Harry would want, right now.

"Percy!"

Ginny called to her brother as he emerged from the crowd.

"What's happened?" she asked.

"I was just on my way to alert Madam Pomfrey — it seems that the bludger broke Harry's arm. And then Lockhart went and tried to mend it."

"Oh no," Ginny gasped.

"Oh no indeed. At least the bone's not broken, anymore. But I don't think there's a bone left in that arm."

He excused himself and hurried back to the castle. Elaine shook her head; how Lockhart came to be a professor Elaine would never understand. Moments later, Harry Potter himself came stumbling through, supported on either side by Hermione and Ron. Ginny skittered shortly behind with Fred and George. Elaine, despite her better judgement, followed.

The professors barred everyone at the entrance to the hospital wing, anyone who wasn't Ron or Hermione, or a part of the quidditch team. Ginny was let past by her brothers — they were, after all, a prefect, two beaters, and the Boy Who Lived's best friend.

"Are you coming?" she offered.

"You go on. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey doesn't want a fuss."

She watched Madam Pomfrey having what looked like a small tantrum; she couldn't make out what she was saying, but she figured it was about Lockhart. She watched Harry spew the potion she gave him. One would think that in the magical world they'd have a spell to fix the taste of medicine.

The numbers dwindled rapidly soon after. Slowly, she made her way back up to the common room and focused all her mind on the last few inches of her essay.

<><<>><>

It didn't stop storming. All day, the rain would oscillate between a shower and a deluge. The bright warmth of the Great Hall was a welcome refuge.

Every Hogwarts student milled about in a happy babble. All except for one green-eyed seeker; everyone indulged themselves as if the events of the season's first quidditch match hadn't happened. But, Elaine couldn't put him from her mind.

Elaine had never been one for indulgence, so it was odd that she should pile a second helping of pudding onto her plate. Ginny had already gone up to bed, so the only person she had to excuse herself to was Holly. Elaine took the plate. She walked quickly and quietly through the corridors, dark and empty, in the direction of the hospital wing.

She peered carefully through the entrance. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. Not that Elaine was afraid of her, but she did worry that the older witch wouldn't appreciate her feeding sugar to a patient. She tiptoed through.

She peeked past his privacy blind. 

"Hello, Harry."

"Elaine, hi." He sat up in a hurry, adjusting his glasses in front of wide eyes.

"I hope I'm not intruding, or — "

"No." He half-smiled. "But... what _are_ you doing here?"

Elaine stepped fully into view, plate in hand. 

"I just thought... well, I wanted to — to bring you something to wash down the potion with," she stammered.

"Thanks."

He took the pudding, which rested on his lap while he ate with his good arm. Elaine looked at the sling.

"How's your arm?"

"It's a little better, I guess."

"Does it hurt?"

"A little. Because of that stuff." He gestured to the bottle of Skelegrow on his nightstand. "But it doesn't hurt as bad as it tastes."

"I saw you spew it everywhere," Elaine smirked, "which is why I thought you might need something sweet."

"Thanks."

He offered her a bite of treacle sponge, which she declined. She sat in a small chair.

"It must be dull here," she commented.

"Yeah," crumbs fell from his mouth, "Madam Pomfrey sent everyone away, which wasn't so bad, but I wish Ron and Hermione could have stayed."

Harry shoveled another forkful into his mouth. Elaine was beginning to think she should keep this visit short.

"So," Harry asked, obviously making a pained effort to cut the tension, "do you... like Hogwarts?"

"I do," said Elaine, then she continued after a pause, "It beats living with the LaChances. Or, working for them."

"Why don't you call them your grandparents?"

Elaine shrugged. "Well, they weren't my grandparents until a few months ago, were they? It just feels... odd."

More silence ensued while he scraped up the last of the pudding.

"I bet you must prefer Hogwarts to the Dursleys." She tried to keep the quiet at bay.

"Yeah — but at least I'm not their maid."

"I never had to sleep in a broom cupboard."

They shared a laugh, and the tension seemed to ease. Harry smiled.

"Thank you for the pudding. It definitely took my mind off my arm." 

"I can't believe what Lockhart did. How can anyone still be alive and be so dim?"

This made Harry laugh. Elaine sat forward, elbows on her knees.

"So," she continued, "is quidditch normally that exciting?"

"Last year a professor hexed my broom and nearly threw me off."

Elaine gasped, "What? Why would they do that, a professor?"

"He was working with Voldemort."

Elaine's smile quickly fell from her face. "I thought he was gone."

"He was. He is. He drank unicorn blood to stay alive, but he wasn't exactly... _living_." 

A sensation like panic stirred in her stomach. Elaine retreated into her mind — Lockhart was new, which must mean —

"It was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded, "Professor Quirrel."

"So, you've met Voldemort? What was he like? What did he want?"

"He was... terrifying. He was after the Philosopher's Stone, so he could return by drinking the elixir of life."

"But you stopped him."

"Yeah. I don't really understand it, but Voldemort can't touch me. Something to do with my mother sacrificing herself for me."

"So he's trapped forever, now?"

"I don't think so. Dumbledore says there are ways he can come back."

Elaine shuddered. All she managed to say was an awe-filled _'wow.'_

"I wonder," she whispered, "if that's how my mum died, protecting me."

"And your dad?"

Immediately Elaine averted her gaze to her lap. She felt her blood begin to run cold.

"I–I don't know. He... disappeared. When my mother died, he was nowhere to be found." Elaine cleared her throat. "Voldemort probably killed him, too."

Harry smiled softly. "I'm sorry."

She lifted her gaze to him again, and saw he was already looking at her; his brilliant green eyes held hers of icy blue. Elaine could only describe the feeling as slipping on a pair of old, well-worn shoes. 

Suddenly, with a _pop_ and a _swoosh_ , a lump fell straight onto Harry's lap. With one arm he pushed himself backward against his pillows, and Elaine yelped and gathered herself up in her chair.

"Dobby!" Harry yelled. "Get off!"

The poor creature on Harry's lap was a pitiful sight. He whispered, "Harry Potter came back to school. Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter — why didn't you heed Dobby? Why didn't Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?"

"It was you," said Harry, incredulity gleaming in his eyes — the creature's eyes were like luminous baseballs in the sunken sockets of his bald head.

"Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway," whimpered the creature. He extended two poorly hands toward the Boy Who Lived. "Dobby had to iron his hands. But Dobby didn't care, sir. Dobby thought that Harry Potter would be safe with the muggles. No, never did Dobby imagine that Harry Potter would find another way!"

She swallowed hard as she observed the bandages, dirty and fraying. Her stomach churned at the thought of it burning its own hands.

"Harry..."

Four green eyes turned to her, two like emerald, and two yellowish and glowing.

"Who is Harry Potter's pretty friend?"

The wiry creature hopped off the bed, and Elaine blushed. No one had ever called her pretty. Maria had, but that was different. That was Maria.

Harry introduced them, "Elaine, this is Dobby. Dobby, Elaine. He's a house elf."

Dobby had slouched over to Elaine's chair. He huddled by her legs and stared up at her in wonderment. Elaine perked up.

"You're a house elf? Is that like a servant?"

"Dobby serves a noble wizard family." 

"I'm a servant, too." She smiled at the elf. "Dobby, would you let me look at your hands?"

"Oh, no, Dobby couldn't possibly allow a witch to help him. No no, it would be wrong of Dobby."

"Of course not — one servant to another."

She gave him a reassuring smile. Slowly, he nodded and presented his hands to her. Elaine stood, snatching the bandages from Harry's nightstand that Madam Pomfrey had used to bind his arm. She found a bottle of some sort of magical disinfectant on a tray by the next bed over. She got to work unwrapping his knobby fingers.

"Why do you wear that, Mr. Dobby?" she asked him as she worked.

" _Mister_ Dobby? Dobby has never been called _mister_ before. Dobby likes Harry Potter's friend very much, he does."

Elaine smiled. "Do you not have any other clothes?"

"Ah!" Dobby wailed, "To have clothes! Dobby wishes he could have such a treasure as clothes." He gestured to himself and pulled self-consciously at the dirty material. "'Tis a mark of the house elf's enslavement, m'lady. Dobby can only be free when his masters present him with clothes."

Elaine was carefully re-bandaging the elf's hands when Dobby began to sob again. She gasped as he pulled his hands away and threw himself onto Harry's bedsheets.

"Harry Potter must go home! Dobby hoped his bludger was enough to —"

Harry cut off the blubbering house elf before he could finish. Elaine watched his mild agitation blossom into full fiery anger.

_"Your_ bludger? _You_ made that bludger try to kill me?" 

Dobby continued to bawl, "Not kill you, sir, never kill you — Dobby wants to _save_ Harry Potter's life! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home —"

"Oh, is that all?" Harry retorted with sizzling sarcasm.

"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby shrieked, tears soaking his already soiled garment. "Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! And now at Hogwarts terrible things are to happen, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more..."

"So it exists," Elaine whispered.

There was a moment of silence as Dobby froze, horror registering on his face. Suddenly, he leapt to the nightstand where the Skelegrow was. Dobby broke the silence as he whacked it over his head. Elaine gasped, horrified and stunned, as the elf continued to beat himself, chanting _'bad Dobby, very bad Dobby...'_ until Harry grabbed the bottle from him.

"Do you mean the Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?"

"Ah, sir, you mustn't ask more of Dobby." 

Harry had to hold the elf's wrists to keep him from hurting himself. Dobby moaned and beseeched the Boy Who Lived. 

"Dark deeds are planned in this place, but Harry Potter must not be here when they happen. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too dangerous —"

Harry held the creature tight.

"Who's opened it? Who opened it last time?" 

"Dobby can't, sir, Dobby mustn't!" squealed the elf. "Please, Harry Potter, please go home!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Harry replied, fierce in such a way Elaine hadn't thought him capable. She rather admired it.

Dobby froze suddenly. Elaine had heard it, and judging by the way Harry's eyes expanded, she guessed he had, too. Footsteps.

"Dobby must go!"

With another _pop_ , the elf had disappeared. Elaine gasped. 

The footsteps neared the entrance, and Harry quickly put out his lamp. He flopped down on his bed and pulled the sheets about himself, and Elaine slumped in her chair. Now, the noise was close enough to discern at least two pairs of footsteps.

"Who is it?" Elaine whispered to Harry, who watched the events unfolding behind her.

"It's Dumbledore," he replied. A moment later, they heard the headmaster whisper for Professor McGonagall to get Madam Pomfrey. Their Head of House rushed past the end of Harry's bed — Elaine held her breath.

Elaine silently begged that the two women wouldn't notice her curled up in the chair. But they swooped straight past her. She held Harry's eyes. She whispered to him when she thought they'd be out of earshot.

"Harry, what's happening?"

In that moment, Madam Pomfrey asked the same question three beds away.

"Another attack," Dumbledore muttered.

"Albus found him on the stairs..." Elaine heard Professor McGonagall, "we think he was trying to sneak up and visit Potter."

Elaine watched Harry's eyes widen, gleaming through the dark. She saw him swallow hard. She tried her best to make a sympathetic face through the obscurity.

"Can you see who it is?" she whispered

"I'm trying..."

He strained against his pillow. Suddenly, she saw his expression change to one of shock.

"It's Colin," he whispered ruefully, "Colin Creevey."

Elaine inhaled deeply.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey. 

"Yes," Professor McGonagall answered, "I shudder to think, if Albus hadn't been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate... " 

Never before had Elaine heard the stoic woman sound so forlorn. There was a moment of silence, thick with dreadful anticipation. It was McGonagall who spoke, again.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" 

There was no response. Elaine thought she heard a click, then a heavy hissing and _'goodness gracious'_ from Madam Pomfrey. After a pause, a faint acrid smell wafted under her nose.

"All melted..." 

"What does this mean, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked. 

Dumbledore was silent a moment, before taking a deep and audible breath. 

"It means that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again." 

"But, Albus...surely... _who_...?" 

"The question is not who," Elaine heard Dumbledore say, "the question is, how..."

And from what Elaine could see of Harry's shadowy face, he didn't understand this any better than she did.

<><<>><>


	10. The Parselmouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry Potter discovers that he's a Parselmouth, which leaves Elaine questioning her own identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! New title!  
> I thought it was fancier than "Harry Potter And The..."

The first thing Elaine was aware of was the crick in her neck. Then, the chair beneath her. She opened her eyes, groggily, startled by her surroundings. It took a few moments, but everything began to come back; the events of last night, the pudding, the elf. The hospital wing slowly became clear before her.

She was still slumped in the chair next to Harry's bed. A sense of panic gripped her like a shock. She sat up quickly, looking around for any sign of Madam Pomfrey. Thankfully there wasn't any. She let out a sigh of relief and sleepiness. Across from her, a similar sigh came from the bed. Elaine watched the form of Harry Potter stirring under his sheets. He rolled over and fumbled for his glasses.

"Elaine?" 

He sat up, straightening the round frames and looking at her in a haze.

"I must have fallen asleep..." she mumbled

They were both silent. As he held her eyes, an awkwardness tingled in the air between them, as if neither were sure what they should do. Elaine couldn't help but feel an inexplicable disappointment.

"How's your arm?"

"Feeling better, some."

She looked down into her lap — she hoped this would hide the pink that was forming on her cheeks. 

"I'm sorry, I should probably go..." 

She stood too quickly from her chair. It clattered on the floor, making Elaine jump. She panicked for fear that the noise would wake Madam Pomfrey, and attempted to pick it up in a clumsy hurry. 

"I really should go. You know, before Madam Pomfrey wakes up... you know what she's like, I mean..."

Elaine cleared her throat to shut herself up. She teetered on her toes.

"Yeah, she'd probably have a cow if she caught you here."

Elaine noticed the confused ambivalence in Harry's eyes — she wished she knew what it meant.

"I shouldn't have stayed so long, as it is. I'm sorry —"

"It's okay." 

The silence returned, though Elaine wasn't sure now which she preferred. She stood with her feet planted, swaying, trying to convince her body to flee while being utterly transfixed.

"I should go," she repeated once more.

Without another chance to further disgrace herself, fled the hospital wing. She heard Harry call a goodbye after her.

Being raised the way she was, she'd always known her social abilities were poor. How could she expect anything different? Still, she chastised herself endlessly for the fool she'd made of herself in front of Harry Potter.

All Elaine wanted to do was dress and eat breakfast and forget these embarrassing events. She came around a corner near the Gryffindor Tower, hoping to find some quiet there.

"Lainey!"

"Gin!"

Both girls shrieked as they ran into each other.

"Elaine, where have you _been?"_ Ginny asked. She seemed desperate.

"Nowhere..."

"I've been looking everywhere for you... you had me worried sick... didn't you hear what happened?"

Elaine could only guess, her mind jumping straight back to the blond boy lying stiff three cots down from Harry.

"N–no."

If she told her what she knew, Elaine knew she'd also have to tell her that she spent all night in the hospital wing with Harry Potter. She didn't want to give her the wrong impression. 

"Someone was attacked. Last night. The professors won't tell us who, yet, but everyone's talking about it. And when I couldn't find you this morning, I was so afraid..."

"Oh, Gin," Elaine pulled her into a hug, "I'm fine. Really. I'm sorry I scared you."

"Where were you, anyway?"

Ginny pulled back from their hug.

"I–I was reading. In a quiet part of the castle. And I dozed off."

"You shouldn't do things like that, Lainey. Not with everything that's happening." Ginny gave her a look that was both scolding and pleading.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I promise to be more careful."

"You'd better."

The demeanour between them changed. They both made a small smile, and Elaine agreed to meet Ginny at the Great Hall. She walked back to her dorm with a sense of relief, but also an underlying sense of unease; she decided that she hated lying. Especially to her friends.

<><<>><>

November passed as quickly as it had come, although tensions were at an all-time high since Colin was petrified. Christmas, however, had been a welcome diversion from all the gloom-and-doom. Perhaps they all breathed easier knowing they'd soon be home, instead of mingling with an alleged monster. Elaine opted to remain at Hogwarts; she'd never been welcome before at the LaChances' Christmas, except with her nice apron and a tray of hors d'oeuvres. She knew she'd be even less welcome, now.

It was that time of relaxed contentment that followed supper on a mid-December evening. Holly sat on her bed, writing what seemed like a letter. Ginny sat on Elaine's bed. Elaine sat behind her. As she braided her hair, she felt vaguely jealous; Elaine's hair had a reddish hue, but she wished it could have been as vibrant and satin-esque as her friend's.

A little while later, their other two dormmates joined them. Mary and Petra came bustling in, breaking the peace and quiet.

"Late supper?" Ginny asked.

"You'll never guess what," Petra began, "they're starting a dueling club! The first meeting is tonight. And guess who's teaching it —"

Mary interjected, "Professor Lockhart!"

Squealing, Mary ran to her trunk and looked for a change of clothes. Petra threw herself on Elaine's bed.

"Oh, Lainey, would you do my hair, too?" she asked.

"And mine!" cried Mary.

Elaine sighed, "Sure I can. Turn toward me," she said, quickly turning her attention back to Ginny. Ginny giggled as Elaine muttered _'not them, too.'_

Just a few minutes later they were gone again, taking the whirlwind with them. 

"Do you think we ought to go?" Ginny asked Elaine once it was quiet.

Holly spoke up, still looking intently at her parchment, "You couldn't pay me to go."

"It might be useful," Ginny commented.

"You're right, I suppose," Elaine admitted, and sighed, "I'll go if you go."

Elaine smoothed back her own braids. Holly scribbled and bid them good luck.

"Try not to get your heads shrunken, or whatever," Holly called after them.

"That's encouraging," said Ginny as they climbed down the stairs.

"I know the real reason you want to go to the dueling club," Elaine taunted. "You want to see a certain Boy Who Lived."

Ginny blushed and told her to shut up. Elaine laughed all the way out of the common room.

They could hear the raucous bustle from the Great Hall before they reached it. Elaine only hoped that this wouldn't be some sort of Lockhart fan-club. Though, she wouldn't put it past him. Sure enough, Harry Potter was front and centre. He was flanked by Hermione and Ron. Elaine noticed with a smirk how Ginny's eyes remained fixed on the back of Harry's head. Lockhart leapt up on the table.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round! Can you all see me? Can you all hear me?"

The crowd fell silent. Lockhart seemed a little too enraptured by the attention.

"Excellent. Professor Dumbledore has permitted me to start this little dueling club to train you all in the event you ever need to defend yourselves. I myself have done so on several occasions — for full details, see my published works."

_Great,_ thought Elaine, _this is just another PR campaign._

Lockhart continued, "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He knows some about dueling, as well, and has agreed to help me in a short demonstration before we begin. But not to worry! You shall still have your potions master when I'm through with him."

Professor Snape stepped up onto the table, looking grim. It was all Elaine could do to keep from bursting with laughter. If anything, she'd bet Snape could beat Lockhart in a duel. Easily. She hoped inwardly that he'd make quick work of their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and rid the school of his idiocy. 

They squared off — Lockhart commented on the _'accepted combative position_ _'_ while Elaine rolled her eyes — then, in an instant, Snape had sent him flying backward, decorative cape swimming about him. There was a flurry of hands that reached to catch his wand. When Lockhart had stood and rearranged himself, he did his best to brush it off; it was far too 'obvious' what Snape had been about to do. Elaine groaned.

The two professors went about the crowd, pairing them all off for practice. Ginny and Elaine made a point of sticking close together, and Lockhart graciously partnered them.

"Face your partners!" cried Lockhart. "And, bow —"

Elaine felt like she was going to be sick.

"Wands at the ready!"

Time seemed to slow down as Lockhart counted down from three. As soon as he hit _'one'_ , Elaine was whacked with a force like a hammer to the chest. Ginny's spell sent her sprawling backward, landing hard on her back. She struggled to breathe.

Ginny ran up to her. 

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," gasped Elaine. 

They faced each other again. Just as she raised her wand and opened her mouth to utter her spell, she was hit with the force again. She landed square on her behind — shocks of pain shot up her spine. 

"I guess I'm not very good at this," she muttered as she picked herself up.

Ginny gave her a sympathetic look.

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

They faced off one more time, Elaine being knocked over yet again. Then, Professor Lockhart changed up the partners. For a moment, Elaine was thankful as she hoped to get someone even less adept at dueling than her. This hope was immediately crushed when he set her up with a second year Ravenclaw witch.

She easily disarmed Elaine. It took her some time to find her wand again. When she turned back again, Elaine saw the look of superiority all over the girl's face. She was enjoying her victory far too much.

Out of the blue, a thought hit Elaine — she didn't know where it came from, or why.

_'You will have power that others will envy you for, and your ability shall be great. You will truly be the brightest of your age.'_

The Ravenclaw began to count down from three, snidely. But, Elaine hardly heard her. She closed her eyes, and the world fell away around her. As the girl's lips formed _one_ , Elaine took a deep breath. Her eyes flashed open.

_"Subdomo Totum!"_

The girl flew back several feet, as if buffeted by a strong gust of wind. Elaine saw the look of shock overcome her face, eyes stretched wide and lips parted in a silent gasp. Then she clattered to the floor, unconscious. A feeling of inflation filled Elaine. 

She saw Ginny standing several feet away, her mouth fixed in a small _'o'_. She noticed that many others were looking at her this way.

"I said disarming spells, only," Lockhart reminded her, tending to the girl.

"A Subdomus Hex, Miss. LaChance?" Professor Snape asked. "Where did you learn that?"

His eyes were skeptical slits as he peered down at her, arms folded across his chest. She swallowed hard and shook her head.

Behind him, she saw Professor Lockhart helping the Ravenclaw off the floor. Awake now, she cast Elaine a vaguely terrified look. Elaine tried to mouth her an apology, but the girl was already being escorted to a chair at the edge of the room. Professor Snape shooed the rest of the onlookers away.

"Perhaps," Professor Snape began, putting their lesson back on track, "it would be more beneficial to teach them how to block unfriendly spells?"

Professor Lockhart, flushed, muttered an agreement.

He stammered, "Why don't we have... ah... Potter and Longbottom."

_Always picking favourites_ , Elaine thought with a sympathetic look at Harry.

Professor Snape interrupted, "A bad idea, Professor Lockhart. Longbottom can barely hold his wand the right way 'round — we'll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a matchbox."

"Er... very good... why don't we pick —"

"Why not Malfoy?" Professor Snape suggested, eyes alight with cruelty. Elaine couldn't understand the utter satisfaction he derived from Harry's misery.

"Oh yes, yes, an excellent idea."

Everyone looked on with apprehension, and none so much as Ginny Weasley. Professor Snape seemed nigh delighted. Professor Lockhart demonstrated the proper wand technique — which Elaine knew meant nothing — before the dark-haired and light-haired boys faced each other.

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish."

Elaine couldn't help but think that this attitude was going to get him killed, someday. Lockhart, completely unaware, counted back from three.

Malfoy cried out immediately with a quick flourish of his wand.

_"Serpensortia!"_

The whole room gasped as a long thick snake spewed from the end of Draco Malfoy's wand. Elaine was shoved as the crowd backed away. Ginny latched herself onto her friend's arm, whimpering. Elaine watched Professor Snape shove his way through the throng of students, unphased; if anything, he seemed annoyed. 

"Don't move, Potter, I'll get rid of it."

"Allow me!" 

Professor Lockhart interjected just as Professor Snape was about to take out his wand. Now Elaine's stomach dropped. The professor waved his wand, and with a loud bang, the snake was sent flying upward. 

When it landed, it was furious. It hissed as it slithered straight for one boy standing nearest it. It raised itself up, fangs bared. The boy looked like he was about to faint. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry take a step forward.

"Leave him alone!" he shouted.

For a moment, Elaine's heart stopped in her chest as the snake turned to him, next. But then it appeared to calm itself. It lowered to the floor, tongue flicking lazily as it coiled up. Elaine watched, amazed, yet astonished.

"What are you playing at?" 

The boy who had just been at the snake's mercy was now shouting at Harry, as if he hadn't just saved his life. In fact, as Elaine looked about the room, she saw that all the others looked upon the Boy Who Lived with unease; some seemed confused, some seemed angry, and others seemed afraid. Even Ginny didn't quite seem to know what to make of it.

Then, just as Professor Snape finally did away with their unwelcome guest, Ron stepped from the crowd and grabbed Harry by the arm. He pulled his friend from the Great Hall and all the baleful gazes. 

Hermione followed them, and so did Elaine. She slipped from Ginny's grasp, hearing her call her name. She was gone before the Weasley girl could follow her. When she at last entered the common room, she watched Ron shove Harry into a chair.

"You're a Parselmouth," he exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm a what?" 

Hermione took over, "It means you can talk to snakes."

"I know," Harry said, "but it's only the second time that I've done it. What does it matter, anyway? I bet loads of people can do it."

"It's not a very common gift, Harry," replied Hermione, fearfully gentle. It incited terrified butterflies in Elaine's stomach; did this mean there was something wrong with her?

"What's so bad about it?" Elaine piped up. The three turned to look at her, just realizing now that she was listening in.

She continued nervously, "I mean, it's a good thing he can. He saved that boy's life."

"Is that what he said?" asked Ron.

"Y–yeah — you were there, you heard what he said."

Hermione answered, "We heard him speaking Parseltongue."

"P–parseltongue?" stammered Elaine. "N–no, but, Harry was telling the snake to leave him alone... I–I heard him..."

"You did?" Harry responded, slightly relieved. Elaine nodded to him with a small and timid smile.

Hermione just shook her head. "He was speaking Parseltongue. Snake Speak. That's probably why Justin was so terrified. You could have been saying anything..."

"It was creepy, you know," Ron added.

Harry seemed at an utter loss.

"I–I spoke a different language? But, how can I speak a different language without knowing...?"

Both Ron and Hermione shook their heads, looking awfully gloomy. Harry just seemed confused. Elaine, standing tensely, looked on feeling something in between.

"Harry," Hermione began — she sounded like she was about to inform him of a death in the family, and Elaine wasn't sure she wanted her to finish — "being able to talk to snakes is what Salazar Slytherin was known for. That's why a serpent is the symbol of his House."

There was a long silent pause, and Elaine watched each realization twitch across Harry's face. As it settle in his eyes, he broke the silence.

"Now everybody's going to think I'm his great-great-great-great-grandson, or something. But, I'm not. I can't be..."

"He lived over a thousand years ago. That's going to be hard to prove."

When Hermione said this, Elaine knew that she had meant _'impossible.'_

Elaine sat herself on the floor in front of the cold fireplace. Knees to her chest, she thought about what it meant if Harry was a Parselmouth. _Does that make me a Parselmouth_ _?_ She thought it was strange, considering she'd never spoken to a snake. 

And, she thought of the Sorting Hat, remembering with a lurch of her stomach that it had wanted to place her in Slytherin. 

After all, she hadn't a clue as to her heritage — the LaChances had made sure of that. For all she knew, both her parents could have been in Slytherin. For all she knew, she could be the Heir. Maybe that was the big secret that seemed to follow her around like a shadow. 

<><><>

Elaine decided to distract herself from the events of the dueling club. Her last Herbology lesson had been cancelled due to the blizzardous snow, so she put her mind from all things serpentine by practicing the Vermillious and Verdimillious charms. Her quiet corner of the castle was bright with red and green sparks, and watching the colours helped Elaine to feel at ease.

By lunch, they were nearly perfect. Elaine thought to pay the library a visit, maybe finish her essay on Bowtruckles for Defense Against the Dark Arts. She hoped that Professor Lockhart might give her a bonus mark if she turned it in early at her lesson this afternoon.

Hogwarts was unnaturally quiet today, what with the weather, so walking into the library wasn't as alarmingly silent as usual. She sat at an empty study table; Elaine couldn't help but take a moment to stare out the window at the whipping snow. 

Four inches shouldn't have taken Elaine long to write, but with the group of Hufflepuffs absorbed in their conversation behind her, she couldn't help but listen in.

"I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory," one boy said.

Elaine knew they must be talking about the same Justin whom Harry saved from Malfoy's snake. She listened closer.

"If Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter that he's muggle-born — that's not the sort of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's Heir on the loose."

A girl spoke next, "You definitely think it's Potter, then, Ernie?"

"Hannah, he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could speak to snakes?"

The things they were saying made her want to rip her quill feather to shreds. _How dare they? How can anybody be such an incredible and perfect imbecile?_ But, as every inch of her burned with the desire scream, she was silent. She only moved to turn her head to get a better look at them. Her heart dropped out of her chest as she noticed Harry himself hiding among the shelves. He interrupted them.

"Hello," he said, clearing his throat, obviously upset, "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

They were all silent.

"What do you want with him?"

Elaine's ears burned.

"I want to tell him what really happened at the dueling club."

Elaine saw the boy called Ernie gritting his teeth. She wanted to knock those teeth straight out.

"We were all there. We saw what happened."

"So, you noticed that when I spoke to the snake, it backed off?" Harry replied.

"All I saw was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."

"I didn't chase it! I didn't even touch him!"

Elaine heard the anger quaking in his voice, and instantly, she was overcome with guilt — she knew she could set the record straight.

"It was a very near miss," said Ernie, "and in case you're getting ideas, I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so —"

"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" Harry shouted. Elaine knew she could vouch for this. "Why would I want to attack muggle-borns?"

"I heard you hate the muggles you live with."

"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them. I'd like to see you try it."

_Come on, Elaine,_ she urged herself. She was very aware of the power she held. _Be a Gryffindor, for goodness sake!_

But then, Harry was gone. She watched him go, a flurry of feelings. But, as she gathered up her things in her arms and ran past the Hufflepuffs, her biggest emotion was fear.

She never thought she'd be one to stand by and watch her friend be hurt — Harry was hardly a friend, but even so, friends were scarce for her. She was afraid of all the things that she'd tried so hard to move past, Parseltongue, Slytherin's heir, those implications. 

For the first time, she saw vividly that Slytherin shadow rear its green little head within her. And, what scared Elaine the most was realizing that maybe the hat had been right about her, after all.

<><<>><>

Elaine sat in a dark corner of the Gryffindor common room where the golden light of the fireplace didn't quiet reach. She managed to convince herself to work on her Dark Arts paper again, making up for this afternoon. She'd only done an inch and a half. Concentrating was proving difficult.

It was especially difficult as Seamus Finnigan came leaping into the common room. Shouting. 

"There's been another attack — a double attack!"

There was a collective gasp. Elaine's head whipped up, and she watched from her corner with wide eyes.

"It was Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Nearly Headless Nick — and," she saw him swallow, "Harry Potter was caught at the scene..."

Elaine dropped her quill, and her jaw. Justin Finch-Fletchley, of all people — she felt like she could be sick.

She slipped away under the cover of the great noise that ensued. Her dormitory was dark as she slammed the door behind her. Throwing herself on her bed, breathing hard, she wrapped her arms about her legs and pressed them tightly against her chest. She buried her face in her knees. 

_What'll happen to Harry? What'll happen to Hogwarts? What if all this has something to do with me? What if —_

Amid all the questions pouring through her mind, a new thought occurred to her. She lifted her head.

"Ginny?"

The room was empty.

Ginny was not here, nor had she been in the common room. And, Elaine had missed her at dinner. It struck her hard that she had no idea where her friend was.

Meanwhile, her other friend was probably in questioning. Maybe being expelled.

_Some friend I'm turning out to be,_ she thought, _and some year._

<><<>><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a slight pause in production before I release the next chapter, since it's a Christmas special. It will be posted on the 1st December, so stay tuned!
> 
> Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
> Love from your Lady <3


	11. A Polyjuice Christmas Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaine experiences the magic of Christmas for the first time, and Hermione completes the Polyjuice potion — bottoms up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of fluff, with a sprinkling of plot. Hope you enjoy this special holiday update!

_Elaine dreamed of a rolling fire in the front room, and a sparkling tree in the tall bay of windows. This was the LaChance manor. Her grandparents sat in the chairs at the edges of her vision. Ginny sat on the floor in front of her, Harry beside her. They both looked up at her with expectant smiles. On either side of Elaine, sitting on the sofa, there was a pair of legs. Left, a woman, warm and gentle. A man on the right, though it was difficult to get a sense of him. She couldn't see their faces, but somehow she knew that these were her parents. Everyone, shrouded in firelight and silence, and their very smiles were music to Elaine._

The soft Christmas lights gave into darkness. She opened her eyes slowly, breathed deep. The manor had vanished. Elaine lay on her back, arms stretched comfortably above her. She closed her eyes and nestled her head into the crook of her arm. Elaine relished the warm tingling in her body as she came awake slowly. She savoured the fast-fading memory of her dream.

After a bit, she opened her eyes again. The room was just beginning to lighten into the dark blue of a winter's morning. The cold floor sent prickles across her skin. She wrapped her arms about her body and stood in front of the tall window. Outside, large crystalline flakes formed a thick snowfall. The whole world was white.

Ginny stirred behind her. Elaine turned, watching her friend sit up and rub her eyes.

"Morning, Gin."

"Morning. Happy Christmas." 

Both girls smiled wide.

Ginny threw off her blankets, "Let's open our presents!"

Elaine's mouth dropped open. "I have presents?"

She clambered over her blankets and looked down at the foot of her bed. Sure enough, several packages sat in wait. Sitting on top was a cellophane bag of chocolates. Elaine smiled, twisted it open and popped one in her mouth. She offered one to Ginny.

"Who's that from?" she asked, taking one.

"Maria. It's a sort of tradition."

Ginny began to open her presents, too. The first was a large lumpy package that contained a hand-knit sweater. As her friend pulled it on, Elaine saw her initial on the front. Ginny seemed sheepish.

"Mum makes one every year."

Elaine, looking back to her own gifts, noticed that she had a very similar lumpy package. She tore it open. As she pulled the paper back, she revealed a heap of woolly fabric, navy blue. With a wide smile, she pulled it on over her nightgown. A large silvery grey letter _E_ was displayed across the front.

"Looks like mum made you one, too," said Ginny with a sly smile.

Elaine cast her a set of suspicious eyes, but her friend simply threw her hands in the air. Elaine moved on to her next present. She glanced at the tag — _To Lainey, from Gin._ Elaine looked up at Ginny again, who gave her a nod of encouragement.

Elaine unwrapped a pair of jeans. Obviously they were older; they were faded, a bit frayed, and there was a small tear on one knee. But to Elaine, they were the most exquisite pair of jeans she'd ever seen.

"They're an old pair of mine. I don't wear them anymore, and I thought since you didn't have any..."

"I love them." 

Warmth bubbled in her chest, and Elaine smiled ear to ear. Then, she dove for her nightstand, pulling out a package. It was small, and wrapped in an old copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and a bit of sellotape.

"This is for me?" Ginny asked.

Elaine nodded, smiling excitedly as Ginny took it and unwrapped a book.

" _The Great Gatsby,_ " she read aloud.

"I thought you might like it. I wrote Maria and had her send it."

"Thank you, Lainey."

The two girls hugged. Ginny opened the last couple of presents while Elaine sat on her bed with a needle and thread, stitching up that little hole in her jeans.

<><<>><>

Elaine spent the day comfortable in her new jeans and jumper. Come suppertime, she got to experience her first Hogwarts Christmas feast. There were dozens of Christmas trees, glittering with frost and golden ornaments. Holly and ivy and mistletoe hung all about the room in long bushy strands. The snow fell above them, just as thick as it had been this morning. It was a magic all its own.

"Looks like mum's adopted another one," Fred announced as he passed by.

George clapped Elaine on the back. "Welcome to the family."

Elaine smiled and turned back to her potatoes. Since watching Hagrid's transformation after a few tankards of eggnog, she'd decided to stick with pumpkin juice.

Soon after, Harry, Ron and Hermione strode into the Christmas feast. They sat across from the two younger Gryffindors.

"You got one, too?" Harry asked her. She noticed his own sweater, emerald green to match his eyes. She nodded.

The trio piled up their plates — none so enthusiastically as Ron — and for a while they all sat and enjoyed the holiday. Not even Draco Malfoy with his jeers from the Slytherin table about _'those godawful jumpers'_ could dampen their good cheer.

"I've got it all figured out," Hermione began suddenly. Seemingly out of nowhere she produced two large cupcakes. She handed each to one of her friends — she had to slap Ron's hand when he tried to take a bite.

"Don't do that, Ronald! I've filled them with a sleeping draught. Simple, but effective. They're for Crabbe and Goyle. Make sure they get them — you know how greedy they are, they're sure to eat them — and then pluck out a couple of their hairs. Be sure to hide them in a broom cupboard when you're done, so they don't interfere." 

"What about you?" asked Ron. "Who's hair will you be ripping out?"

"I've already got mine. Millicent Bulstrode. Remember when we wrestled at the dueling club? She left this on my robes."

Hermione showed them one strand of long wiry hair. Elaine piped up.

"Hasn't Millicent Bulstrode gone home for Christmas?"

"I'll just have to tell the Slytherins I've decided to come back."

Elaine continued, "What about when the potion wears off? What about when she comes back after the holiday?"

"I suppose I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Blimey," Ron huffed, "have you ever heard of a plan where so many things could go wrong?"

"When are you doing it?" Elaine asked.

Harry answered her, "Tonight. After the feast."

Elaine sighed and shoved her food around her plate with her fork.

"I hope you know what you're doing..."

The rest of the feast passed pleasantly, without any upset. Everybody ate and talked and laughed merrily; it was still Christmas, even if they'd be toasting it with polyjuice instead of pumpkin juice.

When Elaine left the Great Hall, it was nearly empty. There were only a few students left, enjoying the last of their Christmas tea. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were among them. Ginny had gone up to bed, saying something about writing a letter to her mum. Elaine supposed she should write Mrs. Weasley a thank-you note, for the jumper. Yet, she sat in the empty common room, dark except for the glowing fireplace. She was curled up in one of the large chairs, her eyes transfixed on the flames; with her fingers, she mindlessly traced the denim pattern of her new trousers.

She hoped things were going smoothly for Harry. A part of her hoped that Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin. She could finally feel at ease about all her questions. She felt vaguely guilty, as she watched the lapping orange flames, that she should be worried for herself while Harry was in the lion's den. Or, the serpent's den — she thought that was more fitting. 

A creak jolted her from her thoughts. With a start, she looked to the portrait as it swung open. Harry and Ron tiptoed in.

Elaine flew from her chair. In an instant, she had her arms wrapped around Harry.

"You're back!" she cried.

"A–are you okay?" he asked, hesitantly. He turned the hug slowly.

"I was worried."

Elaine pulled away, looking him over. She tugged at his robes, giggling — they had to be at least four sizes too big.

"What are you wearing?" 

"Hermione got them from the laundry. Ours wouldn't have exactly fit Crabbe and Goyle."

"Wait," said Elaine with a sense of panic, "where _is_ Hermione?"

Ron sniggered, "It's quite funny, actually."

"No it isn't, Ron," Harry sighed.

"It kind of is. The hair she thought was Millicent Bulstrode's? It wasn't."

"It's wasn't?" asked Elaine.

"Nope. Turns out Millicent has a cat."

Elaine gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Ron wasn't hiding his smirk in the slightest.

"She's all covered in fur. She's got a tail and everything."

Harry spoke up more sympathetically, "We took her to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey says she'll be in for a few weeks, but she'll be fine."

Ron began to to laugh quietly.

"You should have seen her ears."

As much as Harry tried to hide it, he began to laugh, too. And, after a few moments, Elaine felt the same tug on the corner of her lips and the bubble of laughter in her chest. She couldn't help laughing at the thought of Hermione Granger with whiskers.

They all sat themselves on the floor in front of the fire. Harry cast a spell to make it bigger. The two boys removed their ties and overly large cloaks.

"how did it go?" Elaine asked.

Ron answered, "We got in and out alright." 

"But what about Slytherin's Heir? Please tell me you found out that it was Malfoy..."

As she saw the glance that Ron and Harry shared, her heart sank. Harry spoke.

"No. It's not Malfoy. He doesn't have a clue who it is any more than we do."

"I was sure it was him," said Ron, leaning back on one of the chairs.

"I was so hoping..." Elaine muttered. She pulled her knees into her chest.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked her.

"It's just..."

Elaine trailed off. She debated for several moments what she should say, if she should even say anything at all.

"What is it?" he encouraged.

"It's just... you know I don't know my family. My parents could have been anybody. They could have been in Slytherin."

"You're barking," laughed Ron.

"Then why can I understand Parseltongue?"

Ron laughed some more, "You? A Slytherin? Don't be daft... you're the least Slytherin person in the entire school."

"Remember what you told me," Harry said. "You're no more Slytherin's Heir than I am."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. Elaine looked to his bright green eyes and saw him smile through the firelight. She smiled back, instinctively. For the first time in months, she felt briefly at ease.

But, she knew there was something else. Something Harry didn't understand. Even she didn't understand. And, her intuition told her she ought to keep it to herself. 

<><<>><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In incredibly uncertain times, there is one thing I can say with certainty: this holiday season is unprecedented. I know for many of you it must be a very difficult time of year, but it's my Christmas wish that we can all band together during this time — even if we can be together — to make sure we all have a happy, healthy, warm holiday, full of love. Because isn't that what this time is supposed to be about?
> 
> I know I'll be thinking of all of you as I drink my hot cocoa 
> 
> Wishing everybody a very merry whatever you celebrate ~ your Lady J


	12. Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaine conducts a rogue investigation into the name that's haunted her since the day she left for Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU BEGIN READING —  
> Sorry to scream at you, I just needed to get your attention because this is kinda really a little super important. 
> 
> In order to accommodate Elaine's personal history, I've had to make a change to the canon timeline. In this universe, the Chamber of Secrets was last opened by Slytherin's Heir thirty-seven years ago. Not fifty. As you can imagine, that would move some of the original history up a few years, but aside from that, everything remains the same.
> 
> I hope this doesn't bother anybody too much. Trust me, it was an agonizing decision to make, but it does make the most sense.

Elaine loved reading. Ever since she'd learned, she would read anything she could get her hands on. The LaChances would tear her a new one whenever they caught her reading on the job. Now that she was at Hogwarts, there were boundless books to sate her. 

But this evening, she couldn't seem to concentrate on Professor Binns' history textbook, no matter how hard she tried. His choice in literature was as dull as his demeanour and as dry as his classes. It had been an hour since supper, and she was still stuck on the same chapter. She rearranged herself in the chair, her back against one armrest and feet tucked against the other. She began again. But she couldn't ignore the ache behind her eyes as she tried to read by the firelight. When her mind drifted off halfway through the same paragraph, she knew it was useless.

With a vehement sigh, she snapped the book shut. Elaine laid the book on her stomach while she leaned back over the armrest until the common room was upside down. Her braids dangled toward the floor.

From this vantage point, she watched the fat lady's portrait swing open. Three Gryffindors stepped through. Elaine smiled wide at a de-cat-ified Hermione.

"Hermione!" she cried, flying upright. "I heard what happened. I'm glad to see you furless."

"I'm glad to be. You have no idea how itchy it is."

Hermione sat in a chair next to Elaine. The boys situated themselves near the fire. 

"Is there anything else I missed while I was whiskered?"

"Nah," Ron sighed, "nothing we wouldn't've already told you about —"

Harry cut him off, "Well, we did find this."

Harry produced a small leather-bound book.

"I think it's a diary," he continued.

"You pocketed that old thing?" asked Ron. Harry just shrugged.

"Do you think it's important?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. Ron and I found it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Somebody tried to dump it. It's empty, at any rate."

Hermione lit up, "Ooo, it might have hidden powers."

"I wonder why someone would try to get rid of an empty diary," Elaine pondered quietly. Harry handed the diary to Hermione.

"A diary from Vauxhall Road, at that. Not particularly special," she said.

Hermione slid her wand out of her robes.

_"Aparecium!"_

Nothing happened.

"Thought it might be invisible ink..." she muttered. She turned the diary over in her hands again — her eye seemed to catch on something small in the bottom corner.

"Who's T.M. Riddle?" 

Elaine felt as if her heart had hit the floor. Suddenly, the rest of the world seemed very far away, and she felt short of breath. She'd heard that name before, just once.

"Riddle?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper. Elaine tried her best to hide its tremble.

"M–may... may I see it?"

As her fingers touched the worn leather, it was all she could do to not fall out of her chair. Sure enough, the inscription _'T.M. Riddle'_ gleamed gold in the firelight. Elaine could hardly believe her eyes.

Ron piped up, "He got an award for special services to the school thirty-seven years ago."

"Thirty-seven?" echoed Elaine. She couldn't help but think that the timeline would fit, and that maybe this T.M. Riddle was exactly who she thought he was. Her hands felt weak as she held the diary.

"Whatever for?" She asked. Her own voice seemed distant to her as she tried to keep her vision in focus.

"Dunno," said Harry.

"Wait..."

Hermione's eyes suddenly became wide. All three looked at her.

She continued, "The Chamber was last opened thirty-seven years ago, wasn't it?"

"That's what Malfoy said," Harry answered.

"And this diary's thirty-seven years old."

"So?" Ron asked. He looked less than keen. But Elaine knew exactly what Hermione was about to say — her stomach twisted in knots.

_"So_ , if the Chamber of Secrets was opened thirty-seven years ago, and Riddle got an award for special services to the school thirty-seven years ago —"

"Then this diary could probably tell us everything," Harry finished for her. They both looked giddy.

Elaine felt a tad queasy.

She held the book a moment longer. Something about it felt familiar in her hands, like it was exactly where it wanted to be. Slowly, she passed it back to Hermione. The trio chatted intently, but Elaine excused herself to her bed.

As she lay awake that night, and the night after that, the diary kept intruding on her thoughts. Somehow, she felt drawn to it. Its mysterious nature, its mysterious keeper, they pressed on her mind. Its secrets tempted her unbearably, yet she couldn't bring herself to go anywhere near it. 

She wanted to know, there was no denying. Nor could she any sooner deny the fear she felt at the idea of the truth. That was why she never asked Dumbledore her itching questions, that day in his office. And, it's why she wanted to stay well away from the diary, despite its allure.

<><<>><>

A couple of students gave Elaine a sideways glance as she shut yet another book with a loud _thud_. Her pile of books was beginning to grow to a frustrating size. She'd looked through _'Twentieth Century Magical History'_ , ' _Magik in Europe and the West Asias'_ , _'The Contemporary History of Magic'_ , and even _'Magical Wartimes: The Dark Wizards who Changed the Magical Map'_ , among others. The last one even gave some of the history surrounding a man called Gellert Grindelwald. Nothing told her anything she didn't already know about the elusive Lord Voldemort. And nowhere was the name Riddle ever mentioned. 

She sighed once more as she looked to the clock. She'd already missed dinner, and what with the headache that was rapidly setting in, she didn't know how much longer she could hold out. She decided to concede for tonight.

She managed to carry all her books at once as she put them back, disappointed by each of them. As she slid her last book back, something caught the corner of her eye. She looked over to the locked portion of the library. The restricted section. 

She looked over her shoulder once before slinking up to the gate. She wrapped her fingers around the bars. It was locked tight. Her braids swished along her shoulders as she looked left and right, and pulled out her wand.

_"Alohomora."_

_Pop,_ and the lock was open. She pushed the gate, cringing at the loud groan. She looked behind her — no sign of Madam Pince — and closed the gate again. She resolved to be quick.

"No need to be nervous," she muttered to herself, "you're not doing anything wrong. It's not like you're looking for trouble, just some information. It's only a name..."

She repeated this to herself in her head as she perused the texts. It assuaged some of the guilt she felt for sneaking, but didn't ease her nerves; some of the books on these shelves looked positively frightening. Finally, she found a section that might prove useful to her.

_"The Untold Histories..."_

It told of magical conspiracies, terrible blights, wicked monsters. It all sounded an awful lot like a Lockhart book to Elaine.

_"The Makings of Dark Warlokkes..._ more on Grindelwald, Raundolpho OfDaemon — who apparently was the nameless evil sorcerer from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ — someone called Musken... Moosk...never mind. Saruman the White... wait, William the Conqueror was a wizard?"

The section on Lord Voldemort was disparagingly thin. Again, there was no Riddle to be found.

Perhaps she had been wrong to begin with. It was likely that she couldn't find the name Riddle anywhere simply because it was entirely unnotable. She turned tail and headed away, relieved to go and pretend this escapade never happened. She pulled the gate closed and replaced the lock.

"Excuse me."

A shrill voice startled her. She jumped and turned to see Madam Pince. The look she cast Elaine could have put her straight in the hospital wing.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"N–nothing, ma'am —"

"Don't lie to me, child. You were snooping in the restricted section, weren't you?"

Eyes wide as she looked up at her, Elaine seemed frozen in place.

"I–I..."

_"Weren't you?"_

"Yes." She hung her head.

"Do you have any idea what sort of books are kept on those shelves? Books that far exceed the imagination of a first year. You're lucky I didn't have to drag you out of there right blind!"

"Blind?" 

"I ought to have the mind to put you in detention for a month."

"I wasn't going to do anything..." she pleaded, wringing her hands and looking up to her, "I was only looking for some information..."

"Information? What kind of information?" 

She scowled at Elaine. The little witch hung her head again.

"About Lord Voldemort."

The librarian gasped, hand flying to her chest.

"You ought to stay away from such things," she growled.

"But nobody will tell me anything —" 

"And for good reason."

"But I —"

"No no," she raised a hand, silencing her, "thirty points will be taken from Gryffindor for your little excursion, and another twenty will be taken for speaking such profanities as _His_ name."

"But —"

"Hold your tongue! Now, you will go straight to your dormitory before I take away any more points. Go!"

Elaine picked up her robes and ran from the library. She could feel tears burn in her eyes as she fled, braids streaming behind her. However, she didn't run to her dormitory. Instead, she ended up in a girls lavatory. Slowly she walked toward the sinks, looking at her reflection; her face was flushed, eyes wide and sparkling with tears. She took deep breaths, trying to dry them. That was, until a high-pitched voice echoed through the toilets.

"Why are _you_ crying?"

Elaine jumped, looking around for her company. But, nobody had seemed to come in.

"I'm over here, or can't you see me?" the voice asked. It wailed, "Don't worry, you wouldn't be the first." 

Finally, Elaine noticed the shimmery figure in the widow.

"You're Moan —" she caught herself. "You must be Myrtle."

"That's me; miserable, moping, moaning Myrtle," she cried. "I haven't seen you in my toilets before — how do you know my name? Are they all talking about me, saying horrible things?"

"N–no, of course not."

Myrtle whined, "I suppose you're kind to say so."

"I wasn't crying," Elaine said suddenly.

"Of course you weren't."

Sobbing, she drifted through the stall door. Suddenly, as she watched her disappear, Elaine had a thought.

"Myrtle, wait —"

She ran over to the stall and threw open the door. Myrtle was there, hovering over the toilet.

"What do you want now?" she moaned.

"You didn't happen to hear of the name Riddle, ever, did you?"

"And why should I have?" 

Just then, she seemed to become much more upset. Elaine swallowed hard. 

"I–I don't know," she mumbled, "I suppose I just thought —"

"You thought that because Myrtle is dead she must know _all about_ what goes on at this school!"

Elaine stumbled back a couple steps; she was far louder than Elaine would have expected.

_"'Let's ask poor Myrtle, she's got nothing better to do...' 'poor Myrtle's been dead so long she must know!'"_ the girl wailed.

She glared at her guest before plunging down into the plumbing. Elaine jumped back some more as the water splashed onto the floor. The loo was silent again, except for the faint sound of choked sobs coming from somewhere below. Slowly, she stepped into the stall again.

"I really didn't mean to upset you..." 

There was a slight splashing sound as she moved through the water. Elaine looked down into the toilet.

"Myrtle," she called, tentatively, "I hope you don't mind me asking... I don't mean to be rude, or anything, but... how long ago _did_ you die?"

"It was nearly forty years ago."

Elaine jumped. The response had come from behind her. She hurried out of the stall to see Myrtle sitting atop a sink. She continued with a mournful sigh.

"Right over there, in that very cubicle. My deathday is coming up soon, actually... not that anybody would want to celebrate _my_ deathday. I don't think even Harry Potter would come, and _he_ went to Nick's..."

"Perhaps thirty-seven years ago...?" Elaine asked.

"That's right. Thirty-seven long and sorrowful years," she sobbed.

"Myrtle, the name Riddle —"

"Come to think of it, I do know the name. There was a boy, an older boy. He was very handsome," Myrtle giggled. 

"Thank you, Myrtle."

Elaine smiled and ran out of the lavatory before she had to endure any more wailing. She knew it wasn't much of a beginning — it wasn't much of anything at all — but she hoped that maybe now, once she was returned to the common room, she could begin to put all this out of her mind.

<><<>><>

Nigh-on midnight, she listened to the sound of gentle sleeping breaths. All the girls were long since asleep, probably dreaming something pleasant. Elaine simply lay on her back.

She'd hoped that by finding out a little bit about the name, she'd be satisfied. She'd hoped it would put an end to all the questions, and the wondering. 

She thought about Ginny, and how bad she felt for her about the unfortunate valentine. This turned her mind to Harry. Then, she found herself thinking about the diary again. She thought about Riddle — her thoughts seemed to come back to him quite often, lately — then about Voldemort. All the same thoughts she had at the beginning of the year. She was no closer to understanding them.

These thoughts went around in her head until they formed one thought. Something she hadn't thought about for months.

Looking carefully over the sleeping lumps in their blankets, Elaine climbed out of bed. The noise of the latch on her trunk seemed amplified in the perfect silence. She pulled out a piece of folded parchment. She walked over to the window — it was a clear and starry night, and the moon was full.

She was startled as Mary sighed in her sleep. Elaine knew she shouldn't do this in here. She pulled her black tights up her legs and slipped on her grey woolen cardigan. She put her feet in her maid's shoes before tiptoeing out of her room.

A couple of the oil lamps still burned low in the common room, casting their uncanny shadows. Elaine picked one up from the fireplace mantel and placed it next to one of the chairs. She turned it up so the space was bathed in a warm glow. She sat with her legs tucked beneath her, and the open parchment upon her lap.

_"'My darling daughter,'"_ she whispered.

She read the letter, imagining it in the hands of a man named Riddle. This handwriting was his. The parchment, the ink, it had belonged to him, once. She imagined them sitting in a drawer, somewhere where he was. Maybe her mum was there, too. She imagined her hands next to this very parchment as she searched the same drawer for something ordinary like a pen, or a paperclip.

She read the letter over and over until eventually she just stared ahead into the dark.

It mentioned Voldemort. She knew who he was, now. Dumbledore's letter had mentioned him, too.

He killed her mother.

He probably killed her father, too.

Another thought occurred to her, though. Her father's letter spoke fondly of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Perhaps he was one of his supporters. It would explain why he disappeared the night of Voldemort's defeat. At this thought, an uneasy feeling came over her.

"Elaine?"

Elaine's heart nearly stopped as her name sounded behind her. She turned around in her chair. None other than Harry Potter stood at the base of the stairs in his pyjamas and red Weasley jumper.

"Oh, hello, Harry."

Behind the chair, she tucked the letter under her cardigan.

"I'm sorry to startle you. I didn't think anyone was up."

"I couldn't sleep."

"Ginny doesn't snore, does she?" he joked.

Elaine laughed, "No."

"Seamus does."

As their laughing faded, her eyes drifted downward. She saw what he held in his hands.

"Is that Riddle's diary?" she asked. 

She slid off her chair, bringing her lamp to join him at the table. He placed it in front of them.

"I still can't figure it out," said Harry.

"May I?" 

With Harry's nod, she picked it up. The same sensation she felt last time overcame her again; she felt like it _wanted_ to be in her hands. But, something was different as she thumbed through the blank pages.

She thought she heard her name. It was so faint that she thought she must be more tired than she knew. But the longer she held the book, the clearer it became.

 _Elaine..._ it echoed.

She thought she heard breathing. Whispering.

_Tell me your secrets, Elaine..._

"Elaine?"

She was startled back. Immediately, she put the diary back on the table.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"I don't know..."

"What's wrong?"

"I–I don't know," she repeated. "There's something strange about this diary, Harry..."

He sighed, "I only wish I knew _what_."

Elaine looked from him to the diary and back again, then to an abandoned inkwell across the table.

"Harry..."

_Tell me your secrets..._

"Have you tried writing in it?"

"N–no," Harry stammered.

He slid the diary toward himself, opening it to a random page. He grabbed the quill from across the table. Elaine watched him scrawl.

_'My name is Harry Potter.'_

As they both watched, the words began to shine before they disappeared entirely.

"Brilliant," Elaine said, "the perfect diary for keeping all your secrets."

Then, she gasped. New ink appeared on the page of its own accord.

_'Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?'_

"Tom Riddle," Elaine whispered as Harry scribbled about Myrtle's toilet. 

_'Lucky that I recorded my memories in a more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.'_

"I bet he means the Chamber of Secrets," said Harry. In his excitement, his ink blotted the paper as he asked Tom what he meant. Elaine was beginning to feel nervous.

 _'Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets,'_ came Riddle's reply.

Harry scribbled, _'Can you tell me?'_

_'No.'_

As his ink faded, both students deflated a little.

"Maybe it's for the best," Elaine encouraged.

"How can it be for the best?" Harry asked. He shoved the diary back. "This could have been our last chance to find out about the Chamber of Secrets and stop the attacks."

He looked into his lap. Elaine looked to the diary again.

"Harry..."

He looked up at her, then to the diary. More words were appearing.

_'But I can show you.'_

Harry pulled the diary back, dipping the quill in more ink.

"Harry," Elaine said, quickly placing a hand on his arm. He hesitated as he looked at her. She looked past his glasses, deep into the emerald.

"Be careful."

He looked back to the diary. Slowly, he wrote the letters _O K_.

No sooner had it faded than the pages of the diary began to fly, as if blown in a wind. Elaine pressed herself back in her chair with a yelp. They stopped suddenly on June. She could see a tiny speck glowing in the middle, right along the seam. Both she and Harry leaned forward. Then, she felt like she was falling off her chair. 

Her feet hit the floor with a gasp. Instinctively she moved in to her companion, looking about frantically.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"I think this is a memory. It's Hogwarts thirty-seven years ago."

They both turned around in a snap as they heard a sound. They saw an old wizard slowly descending the steps. He looked up, straight at them.

"Is he looking at us?" Elaine whispered to Harry. She felt him shrug.

The wizard spoke, "Ah, Riddle."

Harry and Elaine turned again to see a boy, a few years older than them; he was very tall, with thick black hair and sharp features. He wore a prefect's badge. But, what Elaine found most striking were his eyes. They were icy blue and piercing. 

"Headmaster Dippet," he said, walking past the two ghostly guests.

"I was reviewing the letter you sent me... my dear boy, I cannot possibly allow you to stay at Hogwarts over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays —"

"No," Riddle interrupted, "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that, to that..."

"You live in a muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" asked Dippet. 

"Yes, sir."

Elaine noticed him wringing his hands, as if embarrassed. She knew the feeling well. 

"You are muggle-born?" 

"Half-blood, sir. Muggle father, witch mother."

_And I must be a half-blood, too,_ Elaine realized. 

"And are both your parents —?" 

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived only long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after hers." 

She watched the old headmaster become sympathetic.

"The thing is, Tom, special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances... my dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor girl..."

"So," Riddle began, "if the person responsible was caught —"

"My dear boy," Dippet said again, "do you mean to say you know something about these attacks?"

"No."

Elaine couldn't help but think that this sounded a lot like the same _'no'_ Harry and Elaine had given Dumbledore after the first attack.

With this dissatisfying answer, Dippet dismissed him. Then, Elaine felt a hand in hers.

"Come on," Harry hissed. Suddenly, he was pulling her along.

"Where are we going?"

"Wherever Riddle goes."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea?" 

"Maybe he knows where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is."

He led her by the hand as they hurried through the memory of Hogwarts. It seemed somehow unchanged after all these years, and yet all different entirely. 

When Riddle finally stopped, they were in the dungeon where she had her potions classes. She could sense the disappointment from Harry; he'd probably hoped for something more clandestine. They huddled together as they watched Riddle expectantly observing the corridor through the narrow crack in the door.

As Elaine watched him, she realized that Moaning Myrtle was right — he was very handsome. 

It was strange to see him so young. But, the image of his eyes crowded out any doubt of it; they were the very same eyes she'd looked into every day in the mirror. She wondered if Harry noticed.

And he wore Slytherin robes. She noted this with a distinct sinking sensation. It made sense, in the worst way.

The three of them stood in the dungeon for an hour, easily. As time ticked on, the tension began to ease itself. She and Harry even took to playing rock paper scissors. Tom was ever resolute. 

Suddenly, Harry's hands dropped just as Elaine played scissors.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

By the door, Riddle drew his wand. Sure enough, Elaine could hear a soft pattering, like someone slinking down the corridor. When the sound had passed their hiding place, Tom slipped silently past the door. Harry followed, once again pulling Elaine by the hand.

The rounded the corner. At the end of the next corridor, Riddle paused. Harry stopped so suddenly Elaine thought her arm might tear off. Everyone was silent, and she held her breath as they listened to a new noise; a small creaking, like that of old door hinges. Then, a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon... got ter get yeh outta here..."

"That voice," Harry whispered. Indeed, there was something familiar about it.

Suddenly, Riddle jumped around the corner. The two younger students followed him.

"Evening, Rubeus," Tom said, his voice cold.

There was a large boy standing several paces ahead, by a door. He slammed it shut and turned around in a hurry. Elaine gasped.

"Hagrid..." she whispered. As Harry exhaled deeply beside her, she knew he must be just as upset as her. Surely it couldn't have been Hagrid...

"Tom? Whatter yeh doin' here?"

"It's all over. I'm going to have to turn you in. I don't think you _meant_ to kill anyone, but monsters don't make good pets, Rubeus."

"He never killed no one!"

"Stand aside."

Even though Riddle's voice was calm, it was forceful. It was chilling. He raised his wand. 

With a bright light, the door behind Hagrid flew open. Riddle's spell was so powerful that it knocked the large boy aside. Inside the dark, there was a scurrying.

Elaine and Harry both screamed, jumping back and clinging to each other as it ran out of its hiding place. It was at least three feet tall, eight-legged and as many eyes, and covered in spindly black hairs. Almost as soon as it had appeared, it vanished down the corridor.

"I hate spiders," Elaine gasped. "I always make Maria get rid of them."

Harry gave a nervous breathy laugh beside her.

Suddenly, Elaine felt the same falling sensation as when she'd arrived here. She could feel Harry being pulled away from her in the darkness that whirled around them. Then, with a plunk, she landed back in her chair in the Gryffindor common room, wide-eyed and breathing hard. She looked to Harry, who had much the same composure. The diary lay open and blank in front of them.

"You don't think..." she began.

Harry swallowed hard. "It was Hagrid. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets nearly forty years ago."

"Harry, I _can't_ believe it would have been Hagrid..."

"It makes sense, Elaine. He's always liked magical beasts. Last year, he brought a giant three-headed dog into the castle."

"What?"

"Long story. And, we know he was expelled from Hogwarts. The attacks must have stopped after he was, or else Riddle would never have gotten that award for special services to the school."

"But, you _know_ Hagrid. You _can't_ think he'd —"

He cut her off, "I don't think he meant for anybody to get hurt, like Riddle said. I'm sure he just let it out to stretch its _many_ legs, and..."

Harry trailed off. Elaine sighed deeply — it did make sense, as much as she wished it didn't. 

"What are you going to say to him?" she whispered.

"I dunno." 

There was a long silence. 

"There hasn't been an attack for months," Harry said suddenly. "Maybe they've stopped, and I won't have to make anything of this at all."

"I hope so," replied Elaine with a weak smile.

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know about the Boy Who Lived," she began again, "but I've had plenty of excitement for one night. I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight. I hope you get some sleep this time."

Elaine walked slowly back up the steps. She wrapped her cardigan about herself. Beneath, she held the letter tightly to her body.

She placed it under her pillow as she climbed into bed again. Every now and then she'd reach up and slide her hand under her head to touch the edges.

Her mind was spinning even faster than before. _Someone died the last time..._ she thought, and she realized just how lucky they'd been. 

_And Tom Riddle put an end to it._

For a brief moment, she felt a sense of inflation. It was followed immediately by the same nagging she'd had all year. Even now his cold eyes bore into her.

<><<>><>


	13. Ascension Of The Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ginny is acting very strangely again, and another attack leaves the school petrified — the Heir is gaining power at Hogwarts.

Sunlight was drifting through the window. It was made brighter by the snow still on the ground — Hogwarts was finally seeing the beginnings of spring. 

Elaine watched the sunshine, slowly moving her hand through the beam that fell on her desk. Ginny nudged her; the scurry around her meant Professor Flitwick had dismissed them. Quickly, she pulled her eyes from the window and stuffed her Charms notes into her sack.

As she and Ginny waited their turn at the door, she couldn't help but notice the whispers that passed through the crowd. Her curiosity piqued. She looked to Ginny, who just shrugged.

They stepped into the corridor. All at once, she knew what the excitement was about; the Headmaster himself stood directly across from her. He smiled when he spoke.

"Good morning, Miss. LaChance."

She tried not to look too surprised.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore."

"I was wondering if I might have a word with you."

"Me?" She was aware of the stares she was getting. "D–did you want me to come by your office this evening?"

"Actually, I hoped I might spare a moment of your time presently. It seems like a lovely morning for a chat, does it not?"

"I'm supposed to be on my way to Potions..."

"Then allow me to escort you."

He offered Elaine his arm. She looked to Ginny.

Ginny nodded. "I'll see you in Potions."

Elaine watched her vanish in the flow of students. She looked back to Dumbledore. Slowly, she accepted his arm — she hoped he couldn't feel her hand shaking.

They walked in silence. Elaine ignored the whispers from the onlookers. It was several moments before Dumbledore spoke up.

"How are your studies faring?"

"Fine."

"I hope you're not fretting about your first examinations."

"I'm mostly not."

"I have every confidence that you will finish your first year at Hogwarts exceedingly well."

Elaine felt a small smile tug on her mouth. This made her brave enough to ask.

"Sir, why did you want to speak with me?"

"I had a visit from Madam Pince the other day."

Elaine sighed, "Oh."

"You're not in any trouble. I simply thought it worthwhile to ask you why you were searching for such troubling information."

"I guess," she hesitated, "I was just curious. People don't like to talk about him much."

"Clearly it was important enough to burgle the restricted section."

She couldn't answer. They slowly descended a spiraling staircase into a darker part of the castle, with fewer windows letting in the sunlight.

Dumbledore continued, "I suspect you were in search of answers to questions you couldn't find in your books. In fact, I dare say you weren't searching for Lord Voldemort at all."

She was silent.

"There was something else, wasn't there? Another name, perhaps?"

Elaine knew that he knew — he could probably answer all her questions here and now. She looked up at him to find that he was already looking down at her. She looked away quickly.

"I don't know what to make of it," she whispered, "and I think part of me is afraid to find out."

"Yes, it can be difficult to adjust to the light when you've been kept in the dark for so long."

They walked in silence for a stretch, until they neared the dungeons. The two of them walked through the door to the Potions classroom. Gryffindors and Slytherins were both staring at Elaine as she stood with the Headmaster. Even Professor Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I think you'll find," Dumbledore began, "that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who _ask_ for it."

Elaine dropped his arm.

"Greetings, students. I trust you will give Professor Snape your undivided attention."

He looked to Elaine — she caught the twinkle in his eye — then, robes sweeping against the floor, he left the dungeon. Elaine slid into the seat that Ginny had saved her. Ginny leaned in.

"What was that about?"

Elaine shrugged as she pulled out her books.

"Little Lainey's trying to kiss up to the Headmaster," a Slytherin boy sneered.

"Silence," Professor Snape demanded. He approached the boy, and Elaine noticed the quick sidelong glace the professor gave her.

"Whatever the Headmaster wants with Miss. LaChance is the Headmaster's business. So, unless you fancy a visit to his office to ask him yourself, I suggest you keep quiet in my classroom. Understood?"

"Y–yes, sir."

"A point will be taken from Slytherin for your little outburst."

Elaine breathed easier as she watched the boy cower.

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor as well, for Miss. LaChance's tardiness."

He left not a second longer for any more interruptions. Immediately, Professor Snape leapt into his lesson. He seemed to speak much faster, today, and Elaine's writing went crooked as she struggled to keep up. 

Elaine was learning that the worst thing about the Potions Master wasn't his surly attitude, but that one could never really know where they stood with him. 

<><<>><>

Easter didn't feel like much of a holiday. Not that any holiday had ever felt particularly festive to Elaine, living under the LaChances. She was almost too busy to even notice it. Exams were fast approaching, and the race for top-of-the-class was on. Elaine didn't care about that so much — not like Hermione — but she wanted to do well. She'd never accomplished anything before.

"Gin, do you remember what year the Troll reservations were sealed?" Elaine asked, flipping through her history textbook and her notes. They sat at a table in the common room.

"1911," came the distant reply.

"1911? I could've sworn it was earlier..."

Elaine glanced up to her friend. Ginny was staring into the fire across the room.

"Ginny, your book is still on the chapter about the Gargoyle strikes."

"Hm?"

Elaine spoke more forcefully.

"Ginny."

She jumped a little as she came back to herself. 

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No." She looked down at her books.

"Ginny," Elaine said, gently now, "you're worrying me. You've been acting strange almost all year. It's only been a couple months since you've seemed like yourself. But now it's happening all over again."

"It's nothing."

"Please, talk to me. I want to help —"

Elaine was interrupted as Ginny stood from the table.

"I said it's nothing!" she shouted. She ran up the stairs to their dormitory. 

Elaine sat, baffled. _Maybe she's ill,_ she thought as she tried to imagine what could be going on with her friend. _Maybe she's anxious about the exams. Maybe Draco Malfoy is still making fun of her for that silly song..._

It was a while before Elaine could bring herself back to her books.

_Maybe there's something she's just not telling me._

Elaine didn't know what could possibly be so bad that she couldn't tell her.

She tried reading through her notes again. Committing it all to memory was difficult with so many other unsavoury thoughts tumbling around her brain. She found herself instead idly sketching in the page margins; little flowers, smiles, and a zigzag meant to resemble a certain lightning bolt.

The common room got quieter as it emptied steadily. Elaine was about to pack up, herself, when a commotion disturbed the peace. She watched Harry Potter and Ron Weasley come running down the stairs. They ran straight to Hermione, who was sitting on a large chair by the fireplace.

"Our room's been ransacked," Ron said. 

Elaine's eyes widened in shock, but she kept her head forward and pretended to sort her papers. Really slowly.

"Only my things," Harry said with undertones of distress and exasperation. "My stuff's everywhere."

Pretending to be invested in her notes, Elaine heard Hermione gasp _._

_"What?"_

"Riddle's diary is gone. That's all they took, just the diary."

She heard a sound like a sigh, and someone dropping into a chair. Elaine froze — ink from her quill dripped onto the page.

She thought to herself, _Only one person would want that diary, only one who would know what it really is. But that would mean..._

The Heir of Slytherin had struck again. She realized, with a sensation of dismay, that they must be a Gryffindor. And, if they had the diary, Elaine dared not think what might happen.

<><<>><>

The next morning was sunny, with a sweet spring breeze. Elaine buttered a piece of toast on a lazy Saturday. She brushed some crumbs off her history textbook; it was open on the chapter of Emeric the Evil. Elaine didn't think he was that evil, considering he didn't make it into the books she read in the restricted section.

Suddenly, there was movement across from her. She looked up to see Ginny sit down.

"I hope this seat's not taken," she said.

Elaine smiled. For a moment, they were both silent as Elaine gave her a plate and a few sausages.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," said Ginny.

"I'm sorry I pried."

Elaine poured them some orange juice.

"I wish you'd tell me what's going on," Elaine said quietly.

Ginny looked into her glass. Both took a sip.

"I have an idea," Elaine said, suddenly. "Gryffindor has another quidditch game today, doesn't it?"

Ginny sighed, "I don't know, Elaine..."

"We should both go. You love quidditch. I know you'll feel better if you get out of the castle."

Elaine watched Ginny push a sausage around her plate with her fork.

"Alright, I guess so."

Just then, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked into the Great Hall. Harry was wearing his quidditch uniform. As she watched them, there was a noise like a panicked twittering across from Elaine, and suddenly Ginny had leapt from the table.

"Ginny, where —? I'll see you at eleven, then!"

She was growing increasingly worried about her.

"Where's she off to?" Ron scoffed.

Elaine shrugged.

The three of them sat down and began piling their plates. Ron seemed to especially encourage Harry's appetite today.

"Ron?" Elaine asked.

He answered with a full mouth, "Yeah?"

"Have you noticed anything... _off_ about Ginny?"

"I dunno. I'm not my sister's keeper." He stuffed more food into his mouth.

Elaine quieted. Soon after, she shoved her plate away. She muttered an excuse about checking out another book.

Hermione piped up, "Try _Magik In The Middle Ages._ "

She walked alone to the library; at nine thirty on a Saturday morning, the other students were sparse. She enjoyed the sunshine pouring through the windows in complete peace.

She skimmed the book Hermione recommended at one of the far tables, hoping to avoid Madam Pince. However, comparing new notes to her old ones, she could never fully concentrate. Her mind kept going to the diary. Riddle, quidditch, Slytherin's Heir, Ginny. She kept thinking she should try to find her.

It was already ten to eleven when she looked to the clock. She was closing her books again, when it happened.

_…Rip..._

Instantly Elaine's heart stuttered. Somehow, something inside her knew that this was different.

_… Kill this time..._

Now, blood was what it sought. Her every hair on end, she bolted from the library.

_… Let me rip... tear..._

"Elaine!"

Hermione cried out as they collided. Elaine gave a shrill scream. As they stood there, steadying each other, she noticed that the voice had disappeared again. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"I–I was... just... a–and there was... quidditch... gotta see Harry... um, hi... bye —"

Elaine turned and kept running and running until her feet hit grass. She could hear the roar of the students and knew the players would be on the pitch any moment. Her first instinct was to find Harry. No teacher would believe her. She didn't know what else to do except climb the stands.

Elaine pushed through the Gryffindors. She arrived at the front just on time to see Professor McGonagall running onto the pitch. All the players were already there, gliding on their brooms, looking distinctly confused. Harry was there. She whipped her head around as she looked for Ginny.

"This match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called through her megaphone. Elaine's stomach twisted into a knot. She scanned the other stands for bright red hair.

"All students are to make their way back to their House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Still no sign of Ginny.

Elaine watched Professor McGonagall motion for Harry to join her. In a moment, Ron joined them as well. If Ron was there, too, and Ginny wasn't here, she dread to think...

She was pulled by the crowd as prefects ushered them back to the castle. It was an uproar — hundreds of students were crowded around, all of them disoriented. Elaine called her friend's name to no avail.

The Gryffindor common room was more packed than she'd ever seen it since her first night in the castle. She looked at all the faces, seeing all except the one she was looking for. She noticed Fred and George — she had to struggle through the crowd to approach them.

"Have you seen Ginny? She said she was going to the game, but then she ran off, and I didn't see her at the pitch, and now..."

"Whoa, slow down Red," said Fred, "I'm sure our little sis is around here somewhere. One of the professors will probably find her skulking about the castle."

"Yeah, no need to fret just yet," George chimed in. 

"You're probably right," Elaine sighed. But she couldn't make the dreadful feeling in her stomach go away.

She saw Petra and Mary were squashed together in one of the big chairs, so she went and sat on the arm. For ten long and awkward minutes she clasped her hands tightly in her lap, her gaze flickering constantly to the doorway. Elaine was hoping against hope that Fred and George were right. 

Near minute eight, she had another thought; there was one other face missing, someone she knew wasn't at the game, or with her friends. The door finally opened for Harry and Ron, and Professor McGonagall. _She_ wasn't with them, and Elaine's fears were confirmed. 

When Harry looked at her, she mouthed to him, a conversation only they could hear.

_'Hermione?'_

Harry nodded grimly. Elaine's heart dropped into her stomach. She mouthed again.

_'I'm sorry.'_

At least Ginny was okay. Probably.

Harry gave her a weak smile as Professor McGonagall made her way in front of the large cold fireplace — it seemed almost a strange sight to Elaine, who'd never seen their Head of House in the common room before.

"Students," she began — her voice was quieter than usual, and less sharp, but ever unwavering — "I suppose there's no sense in dallying around it, so I will tell you all plainly. There's been another double attack."

A chorus of urgent whispers rose up, but McGonagall cut straight through all of them.

"The Ravenclaw prefect Penelope Clearwater, and," she said the next part with more solemnity, "a second year from our own house, Hermione Granger."

More whispers of shock. Mary and Petra held on to each other. The Head of their House produced a parchment.

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities." 

When she lowered the parchment, there were no more whispers. Just astonished heavy silence.

"I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

With no more to be said, she gave them all a tense nod. The moment she had climbed through the portrait, everyone began to talk. Theories, worries, chattered nervously. Elaine didn't listen.

The common room remained full for the rest of the day. Elaine knew it would stay that way until the whole thing ended, one way or the other. Once the windows started to get dark, someone lit the fire. It was around this time, as Elaine watched the shivering warm light, that the portrait swung open again. A little red headed witch stepped through.

"Ginny!" 

Elaine flung herself off the chair and straight onto her friend.

"You ran away... and when you weren't at the game..."

She struggled to move words. Instead, she just held Ginny tighter.

"I was so worried."

"I'm sorry," Ginny muttered, hugging back.

After several moments, Elaine pulled away. Holding her at arms length, she could see the puffy redness around Ginny's eyes.

"What happened to you? Where've you been?" Elaine whispered.

As she saw the tears forming in her eyes again, Elaine just pulled her into another hug. She made shushing noises.

Elaine decided that there was no sense in trying to study in all this commotion. Instead, she brushed Ginny's hair slowly by the fire, and braided it into a nice waterfall. After, she took requests from some of the other Gryffindor girls.

<><<>><>

The Heir of Slytherin had the diary. There'd been another attack almost immediately after. Would Hagrid be blamed again? Was he actually as innocent as she believed?

She was beginning to think she may never know.

And, who was Riddle? Was he a saviour thirty-seven years ago, or was he wrong? Was _she_ wrong?

Elaine was facing another sleepless night. She lay in empty silence, save for a gentle sniffing sound. Clearly, she wasn't the only sleepless one. And, she already knew where the sound was coming from.

She pulled back her blankets and pulled on her cardigan. She walked across the room, looking down upon the small lump under the blankets. There wasn't any moonlight tonight, but even in the dark she could see her shaking.

Ginny didn't acknowledge her as she eased herself onto the bed. She placed a hand on her back. For a long while Elaine kept it there, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her sobs. She didn't say anything, just sat. After a while, the sobs began to slow.

Finally, Ginny quieted. Elaine took this as a sign, and gave her friend's shoulder one soft squeeze before sliding off her bed. But, she didn't return to her own bed. She slipped out the door with a book.

Her toes flexed as she moved swiftly down the cold stone steps. The fire was still going in the common room. Elaine curled up in a chair and watched it ripple over the top of her book. 

She knew that these wee hours of the morning would be the only time she could have such silence in the common room. From now on, things would be different around Hogwarts; the Heir was gaining power. They'd all but taken control of the school. She didn't know what she'd do with herself if Hogwarts closed.

As she pondered all this, she slumped lower and lower in her chair. She watched the fire dancing behind her eyelids as she fought to keep the drowsiness at bay.

As the small clock on the fireplace mantel ticked slowly closer toward one a.m., there was a soft creaking. Elaine's eyes flew open, and she looked sharply to the Fat Lady's portrait; it was swinging open. But, the seconds ticked on and no one appeared. Terror slowly crept upon Elaine as she watched the emptiness. Who could possibly have snuck past all the teachers on their watch? She thought of no good answers. 

There was the sound of a bump and scraping against the floor — a chair moved on its own. Elaine thought she heard a whispering. She looked around the room, searching, confused. She saw the corner of the rug flip over.

"Hello? I–is somebody there?"

She thought she heard a _'Shh_.'

_"But she knows we're here..."_

There was something familiar about that voice.

_"We've got to get back. No, don't —"_

Suddenly, Harry and Ron appeared. Elaine gasped.

Ron shoved him. 

"Idiot. Why bother with the cloak if you're just gonna take it off?"

"Relax, Ron. It's only Elaine."

She gawked at the strange slippery thing that managed to completely vanish two second year boys.

"What _is_ that?"

Harry held up the silvery robe.

"It's an invisibility cloak. It used to belong to my dad."

"You have an invisibility cloak?"

Ron chaffed, "Pretty neat, right?" 

"And..." Elaine was almost afraid to ask, "what exactly do you need an invisibility cloak for?"

"Ron and I —"

Harry huffed as he got an elbow in his side.

"Espionage," Ron replied, smug.

"We had to get out of the castle," Harry explained, ducking out of the way before Ron could sock him again. 

"And you can't get in or out without the cloak," Elaine finished. "But, what could you possibly need outside the castle at _this_ time?"

"Well, we —" 

"Harry," Ron hissed, "you _can't_ tell her about the you-know-what."

"Do you mean Tom Riddle's diary?" asked Elaine.

Ron's greyish-blue eyes grew wide as he looked at her. Harry smirked and repaid the elbow to the ribs.

"She knows about the diary, Ron."

"But, _how_ —?"

"Because she was the one who figured out how to work it."

_"What?"_

Elaine stammered, "It was a lucky guess."

"So," Ron went on, "you know about Tom Riddle?"

"Yes."

"And Hagrid?"

"Yes."

"Bloody hell..."

Harry continued, his expression turned sullen.

"Actually, we were at Hagrid's tonight."

"Did you go to see him about the..."

"About the attack, yeah," Harry exhaled.

"Harry, I really don't think he could have done it. Something about thirty-seven years ago isn't adding up..."

Ron piped up, "Either way, the Ministry of Magic had do to something."

"What do you mean?"

"Elaine," Harry began slowly, "thirty-seven years ago, Hagrid was blamed for opening the Chamber of Secrets. Now that it's happening again..."

"He's taking the fall again," Ron continued. "The Minister of Magic turned up at his house, and so did Malfoy senior, and they arrested him. Took him straight to Azkaban. They told him it was only until the real culprit is caught, but I think that's load of codswallop."

Ron Weasley cared nothing for delicacy. Elaine inhaled sharply. 

"What's Azkaban?" She almost didn't want to know.

"It's a wizard prison. Ain't no escaping from Azkaban. No one's ever done it."

Elaine shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"What are you going to do, Harry?"

"I don't know. The diary is gone, Hermione's been petrified..."

"What about Dumbledore?" 

The three of them stared between one another. The longer the boys were quiet, the less quiet Elaine's stomach became. Harry wrung the cloak in his hands.

"Malfoy brought some sort of petition, signed by the board of governors. All twelve of them. They demanded Dumbledore's immediate suspension."

Elaine collapsed into her chair. At this point, she hadn't a sigh left to give. The Heir was rising, there was no doubt. All three of them were silent, all of them feeling the same sense of hopelessness.

Soon thereafter, the boys retreated to their dorm. They all bid each other a rather somber goodnight. Once more, she was alone in the common room — she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate on her book.

The small mantel clock ticked up upon two. Elaine sat ramrod straight and staring into the embers; they smouldered glowing reds and yellows in a sultry dance. Very slowly at first, she began to slump in the chair. She hardly even noticed as her eyes grew heavier. After a while, she decided to rest them. Just for a moment. She knew, feeling the soft tendrils of sleep overtake her, that she should go up to her bed soon or else fall asleep in the chair. Elaine pulled her cardigan more snugly about her.

<><<>><>


	14. Your Clumsiness Is Your Worst Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaine comes up with a clever idea to get Harry into the hospital wing, and must brace herself for what comes next.

Elaine absentmindedly stirred her porridge and rubbed her neck; she still had the crick from when she woke up in the chair in the common room four days ago. Between the Heir and her exams, sleep had been a luxury ill-afforded her. 

"... and Professor Sprout told me I might make a great botanist, someday. She actually said _'great.'_ Herbology is the only exam that doesn't make me feel like I've been thrown into a boiling cauldron... Elaine?"

Neville had been regaling her about his latest Herbology adventure. Elaine only just realized that she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Sorry, Neville."

"What's gotten into you two?" 

He looked between her and Ginny, who was even worse than Elaine was today.

It was no matter — Neville's attention was diverted in a moment when Harry and Ron came into the Great Hall.

"Hey, Harry," he called, "there are some seats over here."

Elaine was washed over by a sudden bout of self-consciousness, and tried to perk up a bit in front of The Boy Who Lived.

"Morning, Gin. Don't you look dreadful today," Ron said, in an irksome-older-brother way. Somehow his mouth was already brimming with food.

Elaine poked at her porridge, but didn't have much of an appetite. Just as she was about to give up on it, Professor McGonagall stood up in the place Dumbledore did when he had something to say. A timely hush fell over them.

"Good morning, students. I have good news."

The room erupted with shouts for Dumbledore's return, or the capture of Slytherin's Heir, or the reinstatement of quidditch matches. The last one was mainly Oliver Wood.

"Professor Sprout has informed me that the mandrakes are ready for cutting. Tonight, we will be able to revive all those who have been petrified. I am hopeful that this troubling year will end with our capture of the culprit."

More cheers. Except from Draco Malfoy, but that didn't surprise Elaine. The twit had been strutting around the school like he owned it since Halloween.

"Hermione'll be able to tell us everything when she wakes up!" said Ron, his wide smile barely containing his food.

Neville excused himself when the noise had died down. That was when Ginny piped up unexpectedly. It almost made Elaine jump. Ginny hadn't been very talkative, lately.

"I need to tell you something."

"What's up?" Ron asked, taking a second helping of porridge.

Elaine watched her friend look up and down the table, like she was about to tell them a secret. Judging by the way she was wringing her hands, it wasn't a good one.

"Spit it out," said Ron.

"What is it?" Harry was more sympathetic. Then, he leaned across the table and spoke so quietly that only Elaine, Ron and Ginny could hear him. 

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Elaine's heart lurched. Ginny took a deep breath.

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny."

Percy Weasley had walked up behind them, and Ginny nearly jumped into Elaine's lap. She ran all the way out of the Great Hall. Percy plunked himself down before Elaine could catch her breath.

"Percy!" Ron said. "She was about to tell us something important!"

Percy ignored him and asked Harry to pass the rolls.

For the rest of breakfast the atmosphere was much lighter than it had been in months, thanks to Professor McGonagall's news. Students began leaving for class. Soon, Harry and Ron were pushing back their plates.

"You know," Harry said to Ron as he slung his rucksack over his shoulder, "I think we need to see Hermione."

"Why? She'll have all the answers for us in a few hours anyway. She'll tell us who Slytherin's Heir is, who pocketed that diary —"

"But not where the Chamber is, or how to get in. If we can't find it, does it really matter who the Heir is? I'd like to take another look at her things. Maybe they could give us a clue."

Ron clapped him on the back.

"You've got a point, mate. There's just one problem — no one's allowed in the hospital wing."

Elaine met up with Ginny in their morning class. When she tried to ask her about what happened at breakfast, she'd just shrugged and asked to borrow Elaine's notes. Elaine obliged her, uneasily, and dropped the subject altogether. Elaine went about her classes in a distracted sort of way. She kept watching Ginny. 

The day turned grey as it went on.

It was well after lunch and they were on their way to one of their last classes. As the professor escorted them around a corner, Elaine noticed another class at the other end of the hall. Harry Potter was among them. Just then, a thought occurred to her.

She touched Ginny's hand.

"Cover for me."

Before Ginny could so much as raise an eyebrow, Elaine had drifted to the back of the group. Her maid's feet took her swiftly and silently back to the corridor. He was still there.

"Harry —"

He didn't notice.

"Harry!" 

Harry and Ron turned around in surprise. She gestured eagerly for him to come with her. Harry, hesitating, whispered something to Ron before hurrying down the hall.

"Hi, Elaine..."

"Come on." She grabbed his arm, ignoring his bewilderment.

"Where are we going?"

"The hospital wing."

They rounded the corner, down a flight of stairs.

"Hold on," he said, pulling away and stopping on the staircase, "we're not allowed in the hospital wing."

"Of course you are, if you need to be."

She looked down; there were only a couple dozen steps between her and the bottom. Harry followed her gaze, and it took him a moment to understand what she was saying.

"Wait, Elaine, don't —"

He was cut off as Elaine drew in a sharp breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and took a step. 

She was tumbling downward. There was intense chaos, where she noticed only stone and all the steps. It was all going so fast that she didn't even register any pain. Finally, Elaine landed on her back.

"Elaine!" Harry came running down after her. He knelt beside her and helped her to sit up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so — _ow —_ "

As she sat, a sharp pain shot through her ankle.

"I think it's a sprain," she said. "I should go to the hospital wing."

Despite the throbbing, she smirked as she looked to Harry. He smirked back, shaking his head. 

Harry gathered the books that were strewn around her. Then, he helped her to her feet. She met with another shock of pain. Elaine took her books and Harry took her arm, helping her the rest of the way. 

He knocked on the large door that was usually kept open. After a moment, a disgruntled Madam Pomfrey answered.

"Mr. Potter, if you've come to visit Miss. Granger, I simply cannot allow it. Unless you have a legitimate ailment I can treat, I am very busy preparing the mandrakes for the petrified students."

"My ankle," Elaine said, "I fell down the stairs, and I think I sprained it."

Madam Pomfrey sighed and stepped aside, opening the door wider to them. Elaine leaned on Harry, hobbling to an empty bed which he helped her onto. Madam Pomfrey eased her afflicted leg up. Elaine flinched as she examined it.

"It's definitely a sprain. You're lucky — I've seen much worse from a tumble down the stairs."

She disappeared down the wing. Elaine hoped that whatever magical medicine she returned with would taste better than Skelegrow.

Beside her bed, Harry was shaking his head.

"You're crazy, you know."

Elaine smiled.

A moment later, Madam Pomfrey returned with a jar, a roll of bandages, and a pack of ice. Elaine tried not to wince too much as she removed her left shoe, and her tall sock. She applied some of the poultice from the jar to a stretch of bandage, wrapping it securely around her ankle. Elaine cringed at first, but after a while it began to hurt less.

"This will help to heal that sprain, but you'll have to elevate it for an hour, and stay off it for the evening. I'm afraid you'll be missing your classes. I'll be sure to write you a note."

Madam Pomfrey rested Elaine's ankle on a pillow with the ice.

"How is it?" Harry asked once the nurse had left.

"Not so bad. Last time I sprained an ankle, I was limping for almost two months."

"Did you throw yourself down another set of stairs?" he teased.

"Yes, actually. Last year, I was waxing the stairs and I slipped on my way back down."

The two of them laughed at her graces; Maria had always said _'tu torpeza es tu peor enemiga.'_

Once their laughter faded, she carefully swung her legs off the bed.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"You want to see Hermione, and I want to come."

She gasped a little as her left foot took her weight. Harry tried to help her, but she insisted that she was fine. She looked left and right — Madam Pomfrey was probably off making up the mandrakes — and limped across the wing. It was obvious that Harry slowed his pace to match hers, and something about this gesture made Elaine blush.

Harry pushed aside the curtain that shielded Hermione. Elaine's stomach knotted; she had never gotten a good look at any of the petrified people before, except for Mrs. Norris, which wasn't quite the same. Hermione was rigid, completely, laying wide-eyed and statuesque. Elaine swallowed hard.

She watched Harry pick up each of her things in turn. There was a small compact mirror, which seemed odd, and a book, which was much less so. 

"She must've gotten this book from the library," he said. He handed the book to Elaine, who sat herself in the chair. It was titled _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ She flipped through the pages, until they fell open to something peculiar.

"Harry, there's a page missing."

"Which page?"

Elaine flipped to the front.

"I don't know. It's not in the table of contents."

She handed it to Harry for him to look over. Elaine looked back to Hermione, and tried not to feel disheartened. It was Hermione they needed, right now. If anyone could solve this, it was her.

Then, her eye caught something.

"Harry..."

He turned to her. "What is it?"

"I think I've found something. There, in her hand. Look —"

She pointed to the hand that was clenched, laying stiff on the bed. Harry tossed the book back onto the nightstand, kneeling beside Hermione.

"You're right. A sickle says it's the missing page from the book. Why didn't I notice before?"

He tried to work it out of her tightly closed fist. After several unsuccessful moments, Elaine knelt beside him.

"Here, let me. My hands are smaller."

It was for this reason that Maria always made her wash the crystal glasses. It was the same reason why Elaine was able to pull the paper, in tact, from Hermione's grip in just a few moments. She handed it right to Harry. She peered over his shoulder as he read it aloud.

_"The Basilisk is a brilliant green serpent that may reach up to fifty feet in length. The male has a scarlet plume upon its head. It has exceptionally venomous fangs but its most dangerous means of attack is the gaze of its large yellow eyes. Anyone looking directly into these will suffer instant death."_

In the margin of the page was one word, scribbled in new ink: _Pipes._

"Elaine," Harry breathed, "this is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a _basilisk —_ a giant serpent!"

"That'swhy we've been able to hear it," said Elaine in awe, "and why nobody else has. It's speaking _Parseltongue,_ Harry..."

"There's just one thing that doesn't make sense," he said, looking over the passage again. "The basilisk kills by looking at them, but then how come nobody has died?"

Elaine looked to Hermione's nightstand again.

"Hermione had a mirror," she realized, inhaling sharply, "and I bet you it belonged to the Ravenclaw prefect. Hermione must've warned her. Colin had his camera, Justin must've seen the basilisk _through_ Nearly Headless Nick, and Nick's a ghost so he couldn't die all over again. Mrs. Norris..."

"Saw the basilisk's reflection in the water!" Harry finished. "Moaning Myrtle threw a tantrum and the corridor was flooded —" 

"I remember my feet were soaked..."

"It all makes sense, Elaine!"

 _"'Pipes..._ '" she repeated, "That's how it's getting around the castle — through the plumbing! That's why we've been hearing it inside the walls!"

"But, what does that tell us about the entrance to the Chamber?"

Elaine was silent for a moment. Suddenly, it dawned on her.

"Harry, someone died last time, thirty-seven years ago. A girl. Moaning Myrtle told me _she_ died thirty-seven years ago, _in her bathroom."_

"When'd she tell you that?"

"Just once when I was there, but that doesn't matter," said Elaine, throwing the conversation. "Harry, the entrance to the Chamber must be in Myrtle's bathroom."

"Elaine, that's brilliant!"

They both knelt in astonished silence for a moment. His green eyes held her blue ones.

"What now?" she whispered.

"I have to find Ron."

He helped Elaine to her feet.

"I'll come with you."

"You should rest your ankle. And you'll have Madam Pomfrey to answer to if you leave without her permission."

He helped her back to bed. Then with a quick _'bye'_ _,' 'feel better,'_ and _'thanks again,'_ he took off running. She tried to call after him to tell him he'd forgotten his books, but he was already gone. 

Her first instinct was to study. But, her books were out of reach where Harry had left them on the chair. She had no intention of moving her ankle for them, so she simply reclined against her pillow, feeling useless.

She couldn't believe that the whole time she was talking to Myrtle, the Chamber of Secrets had been right under her nose. Literally. She hoped Ginny wouldn't be too worried about her when she didn't show up for class. She supposed it was her turn after all the worrying Elaine did for her. 

She wondered where Harry was. Probably with Ron. Maybe he was telling a teacher about the Chamber of Secrets right now. An image of bright green eyes came to mind. 

Elaine watched the grey clouds becoming dark. Eventually, she could feel her long nights catching up with her; eyelids becoming heavy, breath slowing. She lay back. The cold of the ice was far away.

Before she was quite asleep, a dream had already begun to take hold. She saw those eyes, over and over again, like a photo collage.

Just as she was about to give into the dream, a sound startled her upright with a twinge in her ankle. It was Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified and echoing through the school.

_"All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers report to the staff room. Immediately, please."_

She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but there seemed to be a desperation in her voice that made Elaine's breath hitch. And she knew what it must mean.

But, another attack, so soon after the last?

Elaine struggled with her sock and shoe. She jumped off the bed a little too quickly, wincing as her left foot hit the ground. She limped down the corridor, unsure where she was going. Where did she think Harry was? She resolved to go back to the Gryffindor common room. By the time she stepped through the fat lady's portrait, it was already crowded. 

She couldn't see Harry. Or Ron. Elaine told herself that they were off informing a professor about everything. Then this whole thing would be set straight. Yet, as she sat atop a table, she felt a sickly sensation in her stomach. She also noticed that she couldn't see Ginny — she always picked the worst times to run off.

The longer she sat there, ankle dangling below her and the effects of the ice wearing off, the more painful it became. The throbbing was returning slowly. She was glad of Madam Pomfrey's poultice, which seemed to be taking the edge off. 

All heads looked up as the portrait opened again. Professor McGonagall walked into the common room, looking more forlorn than Elaine had ever seen her. Something very wrong was happening.

"Students," she began, hardly able to look them in the eye, "I have some very grave news. There's been another attack, and this time, the poor soul has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets."

Elaine looked to the others. Some looked afraid, but mostly they all looked confused. Elaine struggled to breathe — she had a good guess who.

"Who was it?" someone asked.

_Don't say it..._

"Another from our own House," said Professor McGonagall, "one of the first year students."

_Please don't say it..._

"Ginny Weasley."

Whispers passed in waves. Shock, fear. At this, the Weasley twins retreated up the stairs. Elaine felt ill.

"I'm afraid the school is facing immediate closure. The Hogwarts Express will bring you all home first thing in the morning."

Now, Professor McGonagall was stood speechless in front of them, very much out of character. When she'd walked to the portrait, she looked back, speaking very quietly.

"I'm very sorry."

She left them all in silence.

She hadn't mentioned anything about retrieving Ginny Weasley. She seemed certain that the school was closing. Elaine knew that Harry mustn't have managed to tell the professors about the entrance, or what was behind it. That meant, with Dumbledore long gone, two twelve-year-old boys were Ginny's last line of defense. 

Elaine had never felt so helpless. Her best friend was in the Chamber of Secrets — Merlin only knew if she was still alive — and Elaine was cooped up in the common room, nothing more than a first year with an injured ankle. She may as well throw her wand in the fireplace for all it was worth right now. 

This feeling brought back too many memories of the LaChances. _'You should be grateful of our generosity — you'd be lucky to find anything better.'_

_'A little orphan girl like you will never amount to anything.'_

_'No los escuches,'_ Maria would say. 

But, she asked herself who she was fooling.

Suddenly, one more voice chimed in.

_'You will have power that others will envy you for, and your ability shall be great.'_

_'You will truly be the brightest of your age.'_

_'No los escuches.'_

_'I hope to see you strong, one day.'_

"Damn my ankle," she said out loud. She hopped off the table and did her best not to grimace. Many of the other students gave her odd looks. She didn't care.

She didn't care that she was a first year, or that she had a limp, or that she was probably about to get herself killed. Doing nothing was killing her. It was time to prove the Sorting Hat wrong — Elaine Riddle was a Gryffindor, or she would die trying to be.

Everybody was too miserable to protest as she marched — albeit a little lopsided — straight out the fat lady's portrait.

<><<>><>


	15. The Truth In The Chamber Of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the kids enter the Chamber of Secrets, confronting a dangerous power and daunting revelations.

The halls of the great school were oddly abandoned as Elaine rain through them, ignoring the pain shooting up her leg. Lately, the teachers would do patrols, but tonight they remained empty.

Elaine was glad of it. Otherwise she never would have made it unimpeded to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She came to a skidding halt, careening inside. She gasped at the sight before her.

The round set of sinks had been disassembled, separated, to reveal a gaping hole in the floor. A dank draft wafted around her as she peered down.

"Hello?" 

"They won't be able to hear you."

Elaine jumped as a voice joined her. She turned to see Myrtle, translucent and dismal, floating several paces away.

She continued with a sort of morbid giggle, "They're quite far down, I think."

"What's down there?" 

"How should I know? I don't imagine it's anything good."

"Myrtle, is Harry down there?"

"Yes. He came in not a few minutes ago, all in a tizzy. He spoke some kind of strange language, and the sinks opened up. Then, he jumped in."

"Was anyone else with him?"

"Yes, that gangly boy, the red headed one. And a professor. I don't think he knew what he was doing, but he was quite handsome."

Elaine knew she meant Lockhart. She groaned. 

She teetered on the edge for a moment, casting a glance behind her. _I should really go for help..._

"There's no time for that," she muttered to herself. 

She clutched her wand.

"Cheerio..."

Elaine inhaled deeply one last time. Holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut, she jumped in.

She hit the pipe as it curved, sliding down far beneath even the dungeons of Hogwarts. The pipe twisted, Elaine's squeals echoing on the bends. Putrid air rushed past her. She slid through foot after foot of sludge and slime. Her eyes were closed the entire way. She tried not to think about what would happen when she reached the bottom.

Then, she felt it leveling out. Elaine came shooting out the end, landing on the wet stone floor with a smack and an intense stab of pain in her ankle. She cried out. Sitting up in layers of filth, she slowly slid her sock down her leg, gritting her teeth as she lowered it over the bandages; she noticed ugly purple bruises creeping out from under them. 

Elaine picked up her wand in her shaking hand, whimpering as she pushed herself off the ground. She teetered on one foot for a moment, taking deep breaths against the sharp throbbing. When she stepped forward, she found herself staggering sideways. Gasping, she nearly collapsed against the wet wall as her ankle threatened to give out beneath her. She gave a frustrated sigh.

Once the throb had subsided, she started again. She limped heavily but successfully down the corridor. It was clammy. But, it was the absolute silence that unnerved Elaine. 

Just when she was beginning to think she was getting nowhere, she heard a noise ahead. Instantly she jumped back and pointed her wand. She heard the sound again, though nothing moved; it sounded like something, not much bigger than herself, shifting through the rubbish. 

Around the corner, the sight of a long snake skin turned Elaine's stomach. It was venomous green. She inched along it, eyeing it for any sign of life. 

There was movement on the other side, and a glimpse of red hair.

"Ron!"

Ron Weasley and Professor Lockhart came into view. Elaine breathed a great sigh of relief.

"Elaine?"

Ron whipped around and stared at her in disbelief. He dropped a large stone on his foot in the process.

"What the bloody hell are you doing down here?"

"Long story — what happened to _him_?" She gestured to the professor.

"The stupid git tried to wipe our memories. But he stole _my_ wand, and it backfired on him. Nearly caved the whole place in."

"He's a _fraud..._ " Elaine gasped.

"Bloody right."

Elaine looked to the wall of rubble behind him, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach.

"Ron, where's Harry?" 

"He's gone to find Ginny."

"On his own?"

"There wasn't much I could do to stop him from here."

Elaine eyed the rubble wall. Near the top corner, it looked like Ron had cleared some away. Just a small hole. Elaine tucked her wand into her robes, and dashed forward.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ron asked.

"I bet you I can fit through that hole."

Her ankle kept hitching as she climbed.

"You can't go in there by yourself —"

"Why not?"

"Well, you're only a first year..."

Elaine looked back to Ron, who was tugging at her cloak.

"And _you're_ only a second year. And so is Harry, and he's all alone in there."

She held his gaze. After a moment, he let go of her robes. She clambered the rest of the way up the stones until she could see the other side of the corridor. She shimmied through the small opening — she heard her cloak tear in a couple places — and tumbled out the other side.

She landed with a yelp as pain shot through her heel, straight up her leg. But she managed to stay on her feet.

"You alright?" she heard Ron yell.

"Alright!"

The tunnel wove ceaselessly before her. She crept along, her whole body vibrating with awareness. As the adrenaline seeped into her blood, she felt the pain in her ankle less and less.

There it was: a giant stone door, engraved with two long serpents. Their eyes of emerald seemed to watch her as she moved closer. This was it, the entrance to the Chamber. And, it was open. Harry was inside.

A voice inside Elaine screamed for her not to enter. Her every instinct told her to flee. She denied them all as she slipped through this grand door.

Two rows of pillars stood before her, forming a sort of passage that beckoned her inward. She walked past, slowly, watching the snakes that appeared frozen on these columns as they wound upward. Upward to what? She was waiting to see one move.

There was water at the end of the Chamber that lapped at large stone face: _Salazar Slytherin_. The double-effect of the reflection beneath was eerie. In front of this face, Elaine saw three figures. She recognized the smaller one instantly as Harry — he seemed alright, and the tight knot in her chest eased slightly. Behind him was Ginny, sprawled on the wet floor.

Directly next to Ginny was the diary. Elaine's heart plummeted into her stomach as she remembered the image of Ginny sitting on the bed across from hers in Gryffindor Tower, scribbling in her diary. Too suddenly, everything made dreadful sense to Elaine; her disappearances, her odd behaviour, even the ransacking of Harry's things. She'd been behind it all.

She was close enough now to hear.

"Ginny opened the Chamber of Secrets..." whispered Harry. Elaine watched his face fall with the realization.

_How could I not have noticed?_

As Elaine stepped closer, she recognized the third figure, tall and dark. Tom Riddle. She stopped dead in her tracks — what in merlin's name was _he_ doing down here? Elaine skidded sideways instead, and hid behind one of the pillars.

"Of course, she didn't know what she was doing. It was very amusing. _'Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but Filch's cat was attacked.' 'Dear Tom, Elaine keeps telling me I've been acting off. I think she suspects me...' 'There was another attack today and I don't know where I was.' 'I think I'm going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'"_

Elaine felt a pang in her stomach. _Why couldn't Ginny have talked to me?_ She listened to Riddle continue, anger bubbling up inside her. 

"It took a very long time for the stupid girl to realize what was happening, but she finally became suspicious of her favourite possession. She tried to dispose of it —" 

"— And that's when I found it," said Harry. Riddle gave him a wicked smile.

"I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was _you_ , the very person I was most anxious to meet."

Something about Riddle seemed far too... _pleasant_. 

"Why did you want to meet me?"

Elaine could see her own anger reflected on Harry.

"Ginny told me all about you, Harry. Your whole fascinating history."

His eyes flicked up to the lightning scar on Harry's forehead, much like Elaine had seen many others do. Only, Riddle regarded it with something more like spite. 

"I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf Hagrid, to gain your trust —"

"Hagrid's my friend," said Harry. Elaine heard clearly the indignant quaver in his voice. "You framed him."

Another pang wrenched Elaine's stomach. Guilt, this time.

Riddle laughed his chilling laugh again. 

"It was my word against his. Tom Riddle, prefect, model student, and blundering Hagrid. I admit, though, I was surprised how well it worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin... as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!"

Elaine gripped her column with white knuckles. Tom Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin, standing before them. She swallowed hard.

Riddle went on, "Only Dumbledore seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He never did seem to like me as much as the other teachers did."

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," said Harry. In her hiding place, Elaine smirked. 

"He certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after that. I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. So, I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day I would be able to lead another and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"You haven't finished anything," said Harry triumphantly. "In a few hours the mandrake draught will be ready and everyone who was petrified will be all right again —" 

"Killing mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore," Riddle said with a new harshness. "For many months now, my new target has been you."

Harry was silent. 

"It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's Heir. From everything Ginny told me about you — your fluency in Parseltongue, your disposition for heroics — I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery. Especially if one of your best friends was attacked."

There was that wicked smile again. It made something boil in Elaine's stomach as she thought of Hermione. As she looked upon motionless Ginny.

"I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait." 

"Well, I'm here now. Let her go," Harry commanded. Riddle just sighed and cast Ginny a very pitiful sort of look.

"There isn't much life left in her. She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. And I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?"

Harry clenched his fists. Elaine leaned in a little.

"How is it that you, a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent, managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

From where she stood, Elaine could see his eyes glinting red — she was sure it was a trick of the light, or because of the distance, or...

"Why do you care how I escaped?" asked Harry slowly. "Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort," said Riddle with keen intensity, "is my past, present, and future."

He pulled Harry's wand from his cloak and began to trace it through the air. Three words burned in midair. 

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

With one lavish wave of Harry's wand, the letters rearranged themselves.

_I am Lord Voldemort_

The Chamber succumbed to a tension that held Elaine in place, frozen, peering blindly from behind her pillar.

She felt as if she was slipping out of her body. The time it took for Riddle to inhale, for Harry's brow to arch in cold realization, expanded within her for ages. She could feel her whole body pulse with her heartbeat. There was no air. 

It made too much sense, chilling sense.

This was the thing that loomed over her shoulder, watched her from the shadows. 

He stood before her in his dark commanding presence, his sharp features, his searing icy eyes. Tom Riddle was her father.

She was Voldemort's daughter.

Elaine watched the world collapse, fold, twist, and unfurl again before her. She knew, as it sunk into her bones, that it could never look the same again.

"Did you think I was going to keep my filthy Muggle father's name? No, I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I would become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

Elaine heard him through the thudding of her own heart in her ears. It was like her head had been filled with fluid. Her vision blurred and refocused as she looked on.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest sorcerer in the world," Harry spat.

"Dumbledore has been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me."

"Dumbledore will never be gone, not as long as those who remain are loyal to him."

Something about these words reached Elaine, bringing her back into her head. She watched Riddle open his mouth to speak again.

Suddenly, he was cut off by an otherworldly sound. Musical, like birdsong, only more haunting. Elaine whipped around, pressing her back against the pillar. She craned her neck as she watched a bird swoop through the vaulted ceilings. It was a great red bird, sparks trailing from its wings. Elaine gasped, open-mouthed; that was the last thing she'd expected to see. 

She noticed that it clutched something in its long talons, something which it dropped at Harry's feet. Elaine recognized it, not without bemusement, as the same one from the beginning of the year. Her very first night at Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat. Then, the bird flew off somewhere higher in the Chamber.

"A raggedly old hat..." Riddle scoffed, his face forming a sharp smirk. "This is what Dumbledore sends his great defender? Well, Harry Potter, lets match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the best weapons Dumbledore can give you."

Riddle stepped back with an ominous grin. When Elaine heard him speak, she could also hear hissing in the back of her mind. The sound made her heart stutter.

_"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!"_

Harry whip around. She looked past him, and with a feeling of horror, she watched Slytherin's great face moving. His gigantic stone mouth opened into a gaping black yawn.

Elaine spun around with a quiet gasp, pressing flat against the column again. She stared at the back of the Chamber, breathing heavily. She didn't dare glance behind her. She heard the water rippling as something moved through it — she thought of the giant skin in the tunnel.

Riddle hissed again.

_"Kill him."_

She heard Harry scrambling. Elaine's heart raced, faster by the second. She squeezed her eyes closed as tightly as she could, then leaned around the column.

She opened her eyes, ever so slightly, just enough to see Harry. He was walking clumsily backward, no doubt blind to his surroundings. She watched him tumble and begin to crawl farther back into the Chamber. Her panic was very poorly contained.

She caught a glimpse of the large serpent, thick as a tree and nearly fifty feet long. She gasped and hid behind her pillar again. She could hear Harry crawling closer to her. She could hear the basilisk, gaining easily on him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry crawl into view. His face was contorted as he shut his eyes very firmly. She peered at the snake again, just enough to see that it was rearing its giant body back. Elaine's heart stopped.

Eyes closed, she threw herself out from behind the column. She felt herself make contact with Harry where he lay on the ground, and the two of them rolled and tumbled between the far set of pillars. Just as she got him clear, the basilisk's head came crashing down. She felt the floor reverberate with the impact. There was so much adrenaline pumping into Elaine's blood that she didn't even feel the pain all this caused her ankle.

"Is someone there?" she heard Harry whisper. "Is that you, Ron?"

"It's not Ron."

"E–Elaine?" he exclaimed after a moment's hesitation.

Suddenly, she felt his hands on her. They blindly grasped at her arms, then her shoulders where her braids lay. They were coming loose. His hands touched her face.

"Hi, Harry," she whispered. She placed her hands on his, following his arms until she held him by his shoulders. The pair moved closer to each other, sightlessly.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"G–Ginny... I–I knew you hadn't said anything to the professors... you went down alone... I h–had to help..." 

"Your ankle —"

"— It's fine," she said quickly.

"Are your eyes closed?"

She felt him brush her eyelids with his thumbs. She nodded in his hands.

"Yours?"

"Definitely."

"Harry," she exhaled, gripping his shoulders tighter, "how can you fight something you can't even look at?"

"I'm going to look at it."

_"What?"_

She felt his hands come off her, and his body move away. Eyes still closed, she held fast to his robes.

"No, Harry, you _can't —_ "

"Just a peek."

He stood, pulling her up with him. She felt him move past her. Elaine stood behind him, still holding onto his cloak. 

Suddenly, goose pimples arose on her flesh as she heard that haunting tune again. The melody echoed around the Chamber, resonating off the stone and dancing around itself to create ghostly harmonies. She listened to it, and to the sound of the great serpent thrashing. She heard cracking as it bashed against the pillars, hissing wildly.

"What's going on?" 

"It's Fawkes!"

"Fawkes?" she asked, alarmed.

"The pheonix — it's attacking the basilisk!"

Gulping courage, Elaine squinted her eyes; sure enough, the fiery creature was flying around the snake's head. She watched, eyes wide now, as it dove in repeatedly. Blood sprayed from the basilisk.

Suddenly, it reared around. She and Harry got a good and full look at its face. She gasped and stumbled back a few steps. But, her panic subsided as she realized — blood was pouring from both its eyes. They were _alive._ They could look at it. She took a deep breath and smiled wide.

"No!" Riddle screamed across the Chamber. "You can still smell him — _kill him!"_

Suddenly, the basilisk charged forward again. The two kids dove to opposite ends of the Chamber.

The snake sat, raised, its head swaying back and forth as it tried blindly to get its bearings. In its confusion, Harry slipped past it and ran to the front of the Chamber again. He only had a moment's head start. Almost immediately the basilisk chased after him. Elaine picked herself up and ran after Harry.

A blunt force hit Elaine. The great serpentine tail had lashed out, knocking her clean off her feet. She skidded against the stone floor, sprawled in the dampness. In front of her lay Ginny. She looked even paler — they were running out of time.

From the ground, she watched Harry dodging the basilisk's strikes. Also in her line of vision was the Sorting Hat. But, her eye caught on something else. A sort of shimmering. It seemed to be coming from the raggedy depths.

"Harry —" she called from the ground, "Harry, the hat!"

She saw him look from her to the rumpled thing on the floor. He appeared to see it, too. Harry lunged forward, just in time to avoid another blow, and scooped it up. Then, Elaine watched in awe as he pulled out a long shining sword. Its hilt glittered with rubies.

Harry staggered backward through the water as the basilisk moved in on him. Elaine scrambled awkwardly to her feet, feeling a distinct sense of terror as he disappeared into the mouth of Salazar Slytherin. The snake vanished after him. Elaine wondered with a pitch of her stomach what might be in there.

With Harry and the basilisk gone, a silence fell upon the Chamber of Secrets. Elaine now looked down upon Ginny, her heart seizing. She ran forward, falling to her knees at her friend's side. She shook her.

"Ginny, wake up..."

She pinched her. She splashed water on her. She pulled out her wand.

_"Rennervate —"_

She was cold and unmoving.

"And who might you be?"

A chilling voice echoed through the Chamber. Elaine whipped her head up to see the figure of Tom Riddle.

"No, don't tell me," he continued. He seemed almost amused as he looked intently down at the little witch. "Elaine — yes, Ginny mentioned you. She thought you suspected her. She was so afraid you'd hate her if you ever found out."

He wore a foul grin. Elaine stood, doing her best to hide the pain this movement caused. She was glad of the adrenaline that held it at bay. She glared levelly at him, looking him straight in his cold eyes; the same eyes she saw in the mirror. 

"You were in my diary, weren't you? You went in with Harry Potter, when I showed him Hagrid."

"I was the one who figured out how to work the diary."

"Clever girl," he said, smiling wide and wicked.

She gripped her wand with white knuckles. Something about the way he called her _'clever girl'_ fanned the angry flames in the pit of her stomach.

He stepped closer, looking down his nose; he observed her, examined her. It felt like he read her soul. His gazed seemed to freeze her in place.

"You look like somebody..." he began. He almost had a teasing tone about him. He circled her once.

"Yes..." he muttered, as if to himself, "LaChance."

Before her appeared an image. It materialized as if conjured by the wind, a transparent impression, barely visible. A distant, faded memory.

A girl, Elaine's age. Maybe a year older. She had the same red hair, worn loose. She was slightly taller, slightly fuller, and her eyes were brown and warm. Elaine took a small step toward her.

"Yes," Riddle said again, "except for the eyes."

The ghostly figure vanished. Elaine looked at him, again, making her eyes as sharp as she could. As sharp as his.

"I have my father's eyes." 

"Fascinating..." Riddle breathed, taking a step back and smiling.

"She was a vivacious little thing. And ever so brave. She had quite the crush on me," he said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Of course, she had no idea it was I who opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"You manipulated her." She gripped her wand tighter.

"My dear, there are certain kinds of loyalty one is hard-pressed to find. The others, they were fanatics, a sickle a set. But Elizabeth... she was _true_. I knew it might prove useful someday. And, I see I was right."

He looked at her with a wide, cruel smile, pale eyes alight.

Suddenly, a movement caused Elaine to whip her head over and look at Slytherin. There was movement behind his eyes.

"You're friend can't run forever," Riddle said.

"Please," she turned back to him, "you have to stop this."

"It will all be over very soon, I'm sure." He clasped his hands contentedly.

Harry came scrambling out one of Slytherin's black eyes. The basilisk was not far behind, stretching out its long neck and snapping at him. Harry held it back, slashing the sword at its blunt snout. She watched, with a jolt of her stomach, as he slipped a couple times.

"No, stop! Stop it!" she screamed. _"Please..."_

"I am Salazar Slytherin's heir, the last surviving descendant of the noble Slytherin bloodline! The basilisk responds to me and me alone, and I will not stop it until my essential work is complete."

Elaine inhaled sharply.

"You're wrong."

"Pray tell me how," he snarled.

"You're not the last surviving descendant of Slytherin," she stepped up to him, shoulders back and chin up, "I am. _I'm_ the Heir of Slytherin, now, and the basilisk will listen to _me._ "

Elaine turned back to Harry, swiping at a screeching basilisk. Eyes wide, full of terror, she took two tentative steps into the water.

She'd never spoken to a snake before. She didn't even know if she could.

"Stop —" she shouted.

She watched the basilisk whip its head at Harry again. Behind her, Riddle chuckled. 

"I'm beginning to wonder if you're really a Slytherin, after all."

Elaine closed her eyes. _'_ _A part of me remains with you... your ability shall be great...'_

She opened her eyes and extended her hand toward the snake.

_"Hhiehsn!"_

It wasn't much, but it was enough for the basilisk to hesitate. Only for a moment, as it dove for Harry. And that was all Harry needed to drive the sword deep into the serpent's mouth. The basilisk's blood poured down Harry's arm. With a loud, low wail, it drew back, slipping down the great face of its master and landing in the water, dead.

"Very good," Riddle said to her, coldly.

A heaviness settled in her stomach as she realized what she'd done. What she _was._

Elaine ran forward, water spraying her legs and soaking the hem of her cloak. She met Harry as he climbed down the statue. He fell into her arms.

She knew something was wrong as she held him, steadied him. Then, she saw his arm where one of the basilisk's terrible fangs was lodged.

Elaine's head was spinning. She remembered the page from Hermione; _'exceptionally venomous fangs,'_ it had read.

"Harry, your arm..."

He reached down and wrenched it out. Blood seeped quickly from the wound, mixing with the serpent blood on his robes. He pushed past Elaine, sloshing through the water, the sword in one hand and the fang in the other. Elaine followed close behind. She knelt beside him as he collapsed next to Ginny.

"So ends the famous Harry Potter," Riddle crooned. "Don't worry, you'll be with your dear mudblood mother soon, Harry."

Elaine looked up to Riddle.

"What can I do?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper through her constricting throat.

He grinned. "There's nothing to be done. That's the beauty of basilisk venom."

Tears stung her eyes. 

She couldn't let him die. She couldn't let them _both_ die.

Suddenly the pheonix appeared once more in the air, feathers aflame. It swooped down and landed in front of them.

"Fawkes," Harry muttered. "You were brilliant."

The bird laid its head on Harry's wounded arm, and Elaine stroked some of its tail feathers. She saw the shining tears that slid from the bird's beady eyes. Her own tears threatened to spill — but she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't give Tom Riddle the satisfaction.

They fell on Harry's arm, mingling with his blood. As she watched, they appeared to glow. Then, it looked as if the wound was being washed away. Harry seemed to strengthen next to her. 

"Of course," said Harry, "Phoenix tears have healing powers..."

Elaine could have laughed in relief. Voldemort was less than pleased; a furious Riddle shot a hex at the bird. Fawkes left them once more. 

"It makes no difference," Riddle growled. "I'll kill you myself."

Riddle raised Harry's wand. Elaine gripped her own within her robes. 

She watched Harry out of the corner of her eye, and saw him look from the dark wizard to the floor. Elaine followed his gaze to the diary, still laying untouched on the wet stones. Riddle looked to it, as well, wand hovering.

Just as Riddle breathed in, Harry grabbed the basilisk fang again. In an instant, he'd lunged forward and grabbed Riddle's diary. It fell open to one of the many blank pages. Riddle took a step forward.

_"No —!"_

Harry plunged the fang into the page. A sickening, deafening scream pierced the Chamber. Riddle flailed, writhed, his face twisted in agony. Ink poured from the pages; every word he'd ever written in it flowing in a black flood across the floor. 

He stabbed the other page. Riddle began to glow and fade, holes searing through his form like fire through parchment.

Harry closed the diary. Then, he drove the fang straight through the cover.

Riddle's screams ended abruptly as he burst into sparks and smoke. The Chamber was silent, save for the last few echoes of his howling. He was gone. Harry and Elaine released a synchronized sigh of relief.

Almost immediately, there was a gasp. Ginny's eyes flew open.

<><<>><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my climax did justice to the story, and to everyone who's made it through, my biggest gratitude. Keep an eye out for the final chapter!


	16. Elaine Riddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elaine emerges from the Chamber of Secrets; now, she must come to terms with her new reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a nice, sweet ending.

Ginny did not stop crying after she woke up. Even as they approached the Headmaster's office, Harry holding her on one side and Elaine on the other, her tears flowed ceaselessly down her cheeks. Elaine saw the tracks they made through the dirt. 

There was still enough adrenaline in Elaine that as she stepped into the office, her limp was nearly nonexistent. They were met with a shout.

"Ginny!"

Mrs. Weasley jumped up from where she sat by the fire, obviously crying, followed closely behind by the person she knew must be Mr. Weasley. They both grabbed onto their daughter.

Professor McGonagall was there, looking shocked beyond words. Professor Dumbledore sat coolly at his desk, even as Fawkes drifted over their heads and landed on a perch next to him.

Harry walked up to Dumbledore's desk; everyone watched keenly as he placed upon it the bloody sword, the Sorting Hat, and the diary.

He told them everything — he made sure to be clear that Ginny was completely innocent, and Elaine nodded eagerly along. It was quite a long story, from Hermione's clue about the basilisk, to finding the entrance, to Riddle, to the sword. As everyone stood in the Headmaster's office, enraptured, Elaine's ankle slowly began to pain her again.

When Harry had finally finished, Dumbledore spoke through the heavy silence.

"Miss. Weasley should go up to the hospital wing immediately. This has been quite an ordeal. Bed rest, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate — I find that always cheers me up."

He smiled warmly to the distraught first year. Then he turned his smile to Elaine.

"Perhaps you'd like to accompany her, Miss. LaChance? I'm sure she could use a friend at this time."

Elaine nodded. As Mrs. Weasley ushered both girls out the door, she cast a quick glance back — she noticed Harry, smiling at her as she left. She smiled back in the brief moment before the door closed. Then, she laced her fingers around Ginny's.

Madam Pomfrey was in a right state when they walked into the hospital wing. At the sight of Ginny, she was all atwitter. She had a thorough tongue-lashing prepared for Elaine.

_'You should have known better than to go waltzing out of here on that ankle, before I gave my permission,'_ and _'you'll be lucky if I can heal it, now...'_

Ginny asked about it, but it was another story for another time.

Elaine sat with Ginny on her bed, and hot chocolate was passed all around. Even Mrs. Weasley enjoyed a mug, sitting close by in a chair.

Elaine placed a hand on her friend's back.

"I wish you would have told me what was going on."

"I–I couldn't... I thought you'd hate me terribly if you knew..."

"I could never hate you terribly."

For the first time, Ginny smiled.

Elaine continued, "Everything's alright, now, just like I told you it'd be."

"And," Mr. Weasley interjected as he joined them — he pulled up a second chair, sitting with his own hot chocolate — "I hear there's going to be a feast."

Once all the hot chocolate had been drunk, and the petrified students had risen, and Ginny was sufficiently calm, Madam Pomfrey allowed them to attend the feast. 

Ginny's parents accompanied them to Gryffindor tower, where both girls cleaned themselves up. Elaine was relieved to peel off her damp robes and scrub the dirt from under her nails. She put on her jeans and Weasley sweater; Mrs. Weasley gave her a hug when she saw her wearing it. Ginny opted to go to bed — Elaine didn't blame her — and so Elaine walked down to the Great Hall on her own. The castle seemed warmer.

She was several corners away when she heard the noise of hundreds of students laughing. Instantly she was transported back to her first Hogwarts feast. She smiled. 

She stepped into the grand room, full of kids in pyjamas. Everyone talking, cheering, and laughing. The atmosphere at the school hadn't been this joyful since Halloween. There was a hand waving at her, and she walked over to where Harry sat with Ron and Hermione. He was smiling widely at her. She couldn't help but smile back.

"I thought you said your ankle was fine," he said as he watched her limp up to them.

"I suppose it was the least of my worries at the time." 

She sat next to him. She cast Ron a smile, who sat on his other side. Then, she looked past him to the bushy-haired witch sitting three places down.

"Hermione! It's good to see you," Elaine exclaimed. Hermione gave her a wide toothy smile.

"Harry tells me you figured out my clue about the basilisk, and the entrance — even I hadn't worked that bit out, yet. Apparently you were quite incredible in the Chamber of Secrets."

Elaine blushed madly.

"W–well, I–I hardly did anything..." she stammered.

Harry nudged her.

"You saved _my_ skin."

Ron piped up, "Which means you also saved Ginny."

"I couldn't have done it without you," Harry continued, smiling.

Elaine looked up to him, now, smiling back. She looked away before her blush got too embarrassing. 

Everyone stayed up all night. Hagrid came lumbering in after three in the morning, Professor McGonagall canceled the exams, and Gryffindor won the house cup (two years in a row) thanks to the surplus points Ron and Harry earned them. To Elaine, it was a perfect night. It was the perfect end to her first year at Hogwarts.

<><<>><>

A lightness fell upon Hogwarts as the year drew to an end. Classes quickly wrapped up. Since exams had been foregone, there wasn't much else for the students to do but lounge outside on the grass, enjoying the new warmth from the sun.

Elaine walked through the tranquil hallways, her limp much diminished, following Professor McGonagall. She thought she ought to feel nervous, being summoned to the Headmaster's office, but she felt oddly at peace walking down the sun-bathed corridor.

"Barley sugar," McGonagall said upon arriving at the stone statue that served as the entrance to the Headmaster's office. She motioned for Elaine to go ahead. She did so alone.

Elaine climbed the stairs, a mix of feelings. She was curious. She was slightly nervous, but after the events in the Chamber of Secrets, she didn't think anything in Dumbledore's office could be so bad. She approached the door to realize it was already open a crack. She slipped her head inside.

"Hello?"

A milky morning light filled the room, but Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Elaine stepped inside, quietly. Just then, the Headmaster appeared on the stairs.

"Ah, Miss. LaChance, you made it. **_Please, please, come in_**. Do come in. Please come in. Come in, if you will. Come in, if you please. Close the door, please. Please close the door. Close the door, if you will. If you would be so kind as to close the door. **_Do close the door_**."

Elaine shut the door softly, walking over to the professor. He gestured for her to follow him. She went past his large desk, past a thick velvet curtain, and down a few shallow steps into smaller space offset from the office. It had a small sofa and a couple comfortable chairs, as well as a vanity and mirror, and other objects that looked of a far more personal nature. This looked like a siting room, and she guessed this must be part of Dumbledore's living quarters.

"Please, make yourself comfortable."

She sat stiffly on the sofa. He sat on a large chair across from her.

"Tea?" he asked, pouring a cup.

"Oh, n–no thank you."

He poured a second cup. She accepted it silently, holding it in her lap as she sat rigid.

"I hope you've enjoyed your first year at Hogwarts, despite the dramatics," Dumbledore said after a moment.

Elaine laughed quietly. "Yes, I have. Despite everything."

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea.

"So," he began, placing the cup very deliberately back on the saucer, "you accompanied Harry Potter down into the Chamber of Secrets."

"Yes... I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"No, no, my dear. In fact, I ought to offer you an award for special services to the school, as I did Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley."

"Oh, no, professor — I think I'd rather everyone forgot I was ever down there."

"Yes, I can imagine why you would feel that way."

There was another silence. They both sipped their tea. After a moment, it appeared as though Dumbledore was about to speak again. Elaine beat him to it, knowing what he must be about to say.

"I saw Tom Riddle."

Dumbledore watched her expectantly. His spectacles reflected the morning light, and he was expressionless behind them. Elaine stared into her tea when she spoke again, very quietly.

"Voldemort's my father, isn't he? That's why you changed my name at Hogwarts."

"Yes," he replied, calm, almost sullen, "I changed your name to protect you. If the world were to discover that the Dark Lord had a child, if anyone were to learn of your true identity —"

"I know," Elaine replied quickly. She took another awkward sip. Dumbledore did, as well. He offered her a sherbet lemon, which she refused. Dumbledore sat back in his chair. Elaine gazed out the tall window on the far wall upon a warm morning.

"How?" she asked, after the long pause. 

Dumbledore placed his half-full teacup on the table beside him. He folded his hands in his lap.

"Your mother was an exceptional witch, and an exceptional person. She never failed to see the beauty in the world, or the good in people."

Elaine sighed.

"I've rarely seen such raw resolve — when she set her mind to something, nothing could change it. She was not shy, and not easily deterred. I think it was this strength of spirit your father so admired in her, despite her blood status."

There was another pause; Elaine remembered what Riddle had said about her. _'There are certain kinds of loyalty one is hard-pressed to find... She was true.'_

"In the year before the war ended," Dumbledore continued, "your mother came to me. She'd heard about the things Voldemort was doing, and she knew that it was too late to save him from the darkness... to save him from himself. She was afraid, especially since she was with child."

He nodded to Elaine.

"She asked me to hide her, so I did. But, somehow, the news of your birth reached Voldemort, and he decided to return to you."

"Why?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

"I do not know, my dear." He shook his head solemnly. "Why he should take your mother's life and leave you untouched is beyond me. But, I remember that night well. I was here, at Hogwarts, when I received word. Your mother had sent an alarm, but by the time the Aurors arrived it was too late. When I got there, Elizabeth was lying on the stairs, and you were fast asleep in your crib. I was worried the Dark Lord might come back for you, so I took you back with me, that night. You hardly made a fuss, despite your ordeal. The very next night, Voldemort's powers were destroyed and your father disappeared —"

"And you left me with my mother's parents."

"They are your only surviving relatives. And, I had hoped that their disdain for our kind would help to conceal you. Protect you."

"Protect me from what? Does anyone else know?"

"I cannot say for certain. Your father may have told a few of his most trusted followers about your existence, yet I doubt it's likely that the rest of them knew — your mother being of Muggles, I suspect the union would have been an outrage among them."

"And, other than that?"

"As far as I am aware, I am the only one who knows. Your mother knew I was the only wizard Voldemort feared, and so I was the only one she would trust with such information. In the end, it was her faith in humanity that cost her her life. She thought Tom was more than he appeared, and he might have been, had his mind not been so twisted by his own delusions."

Elaine sat in silence. She gulped down the dregs of her tea, staring into the empty cup for a moment before placing it on the side table. The Headmaster picked up his tea again, drinking quietly as Elaine stared at her hands. She wrung them in her lap. She could feel Dumbledore's gaze on her.

"What are you thinking, child?" he asked her quietly after several minutes.

"I don't know _what_ to think."

"Understandable."

"I spent all year being afraid of it, but now that I know what it is, I think maybe I should be more afraid than I am."

"That is a good thing. Fear will not serve you, Elaine. By letting Voldemort spread fear within you, you let him win."

"I suppose I'm also wondering what all this means. For me."

"Hopefully nothing. Hopefully he will never find a way to return, and you will never have to face him. Hopefully, the world will remain in blissful ignorance of your origins and allow you to live a full and peaceful life. This is what I wish for you, and I will do everything in my power to make it so."

Elaine nodded. She gave her Headmaster a half smile, and then she continued.

"I'm also thinking about what Harry would think. And the others. Ginny — she was so worried what I would think of her if I ever found out. But, what would _she_ think of _me_ if she knew _I_ was really the Heir of Slytherin?"

It still felt entirely foreign on her tongue.

"It is entirely your choice who you tell. But, I must advise you to choose your friends wisely, Elaine."

She nodded again. Then, she laughed. She couldn't help it.

"And, to think the Hat was right about me from the start. It wanted to put me in Slytherin, you know."

"And yet you are in Gryffindor."

There was another long silence as Elaine contemplated this; she still didn't know how she could've been put in Gryffindor. Dumbledore spoke again as he watched her thinking, as if he was reading her mind.

"Elaine, it isn't how you are alike, it's how you're not. It is our choices, Elaine, that show us who we truly are."

Elaine inhaled deeply through her nose. Finally, she felt enough bravery in her to say it aloud, to admit it to herself.

"My name is Elaine Riddle."

"And I know that name will go on to accomplish many great and good things."

They exchanged a smile. Some of the lightness she felt earlier returned to her.

"Now, Miss. Riddle, it is a beautiful day. You should spend it with your friends, before departing tomorrow on the Hogwarts Express."

The two of them stood, and the Headmaster accompanied her to the door.

"Miss. Riddle," he continued as they stood by the door, "you have a difficult path ahead of you. This door will always be open to you should you need help, or simply an ear to hear you."

She nodded slowly.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore."

He opened the door for her. Elaine rejoined the school; now, upon the end of the year, she felt like a different person than when she began. But, as she walked past the other students, she knew that this was because she was. She was more than just Elaine. She was more than LaChance. She was something else, entirely. Something she knew that the people of Hogwarts would never understand. She wasn't sure if she'd ever understand it, herself.

Elaine resigned herself to an afternoon of sun, and sharing Ginny's Every Flavour Beans. Hermione read. Nearby, Harry lead a rogue game of quidditch with some other Gryffindors. 

<><><>

Elaine trailed behind Ginny, holding fast to her hand as they squeezed their way through the train. The compartments were filling fast.

Luckily, Ginny's brothers waved them in. Harry and Hermione were there, too, and smiled eagerly as the girls joined them. The twins helped them put their trunks up. Elaine sat down just as the train pitched forward. Elaine craned her neck by the window; she watched the distant towers of Hogwarts until they disappeared behind the trees.

They all took advantage of their magic, since they had until the train pulled into King's Cross to use it. Then, it would be back to life as Elaine knew it. 

She watched as they played Exploding Snap, and squealed as Fred and George set a couple of Filibuster Fireworks. She and Ginny shared the last of her Every Flavour Beans, making a sort of gambling game out of it — the others soon joined in. 

"Quite the first year, eh?" George had said.

Elaine had simply laughed.

The train finally slowed. Everybody was jostled about as they tried to get off the Hogwarts Express. The first thing Elaine noticed was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Ginny threw her arms around Elaine in a quick embrace, muttering a _'bye,'_ and a _'have a good summer._ _'_ Her brothers weren't far behind as she ran to them. Harry and Elaine waved to them. 

Hermione's parents met her just outside the barrier. She smiled widely with her large teeth to Harry and Elaine. 

Then, it was just the two of them. Together they walked to the doors of King's Cross Station.

"I suppose that's it, then," Harry said to her.

"Where are the Dursleys?"

"Probably waiting outside. They wouldn't be caught dead with a boy with an owl."

Elaine laughed, "I see."

"Your grandparents?"

"I don't expect to see them."

"Oh."

Silence settled between them. Elaine looked up at the Boy Who Lived, into his bright eyes. He held her gaze. Then, spontaneously, a smile broke out between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and she felt Harry hug her back.

"Write me sometime," he said.

"Promise you'll write back."

They pulled apart.

"Don't let the Muggles get you down," she told him.

"You too."

The two kids grabbed hold of their trunks again and stepped through the doors. The night was cool. Elaine thought she saw someone, a very large man, waving in their direction.

"I'll see you later," Harry said with a smile, walking in the direction of the man.

"See you later," Elaine replied.

She looked up to the bright clock. Her bus would be leaving, soon. Trunk in hand, she walked down footpath. She wondered if Maria would be up when she returned; Elaine couldn't wait to tell her all about her first year at Hogwarts.

<><<>><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the end of Phoenix — for now. Don't go too far, because the next installment of Elaine's story is soon to arrive.
> 
> Until then, thank you all so, so very much for investing in my story. The Phoenix series is definitely my baby, my love child, and it means so much to me that you would stick around 'til the bitter end. I can't wait to see you in the next book!
> 
> ~ Much love from J <3


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